


The Sky Is Awake

by simplesnowflake



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:28:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 43,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22221817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplesnowflake/pseuds/simplesnowflake
Summary: When the sea took their parents, Anna knocked on Elsa's door one last time... and Elsa reached out without thinking. Now those few words might just build a fragile bridge between two sisters for the first time in forever. Because Anna isn't very good at giving up. Re-imagining the three years in between- a series of oneshots of what could have been.
Relationships: Anna & Elsa (Disney)
Comments: 100
Kudos: 212





	1. Of Course I Want to Build a Snowman

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! If you are also on fanfiction.net like me, you may have seen this story before. The Sky Is Awake was originally published on ff.net after I first fell head over heels for Frozen. It's been five years since I wrote and finished this story, which still means a lot to me today. Thanks to Frozen 2, I started writing Frozen fanfics again and several readers have asked if I'd considered also posting on AO3. I didn't see why not, so please accept this humble first offering. I'm re-editing as I go in the hopes of catching some typos that are so old they must surely be mummified by now.
> 
> If you'd also like to check out my stories on FF.net, I write there under the same name: simplesnowflake (https://www.fanfiction.net/u/5420605/). I'm actually in the middle of a post-Frozen 2 fic over there and am planning to share that on AO3 after all the chapters are finished (I catch a lot of post-publishing typos/make whimsical sentence changes, so it's just more streamlined to publish on one site first).
> 
> Thank you for reading! I'm on tumblr as themarshmallowattack and am always happy to chat to new people!

She always heard Anna coming. Those skipping footfalls, that happy humming and the occasional yelps of surprise; Elsa always listened for them. Then the knock would come – Anna's knock – and that was when Elsa had to stop listening. She'd bite her lip and clench her hands, recite the Honorary Code or something just as bad, and pray the cold would stay underneath her gloves, far, far away from her sister, who was much, much too close.

But this time, she didn't hear Anna coming. No skipping, no humming, no tripping over herself – simply a knock. Not even Anna's special knock; just… a knock.

"Elsa?"

She curled deeper into herself, pressing her face into her skirt. But even though her eyes were squeezed tightly shut, it wasn't enough to stop her from seeing their parents' gentle smiles. _You'll be fine, Elsa_.

On the other side of the frosted wood, Anna spoke to her door, still so trustingly despite years of silence. "Please, I know you're in there. People are asking where you've been… They say have courage, and I'm trying to."

Behind her eyelids, Elsa saw the silhouettes of two tall stones, and a small figure standing between them. She bit her lip, clenched her hands. _Weselton, Arendelle's closest partner in timber and fur trade… Southern Isles, steady relations but minor business ties…_

"I'm right out here for you… Just let me in."

_Conceal, don't feel._

"We only have each other. It's just you and me…" Anna's voice trembled. "What are we gonna do?"

She heard her sister slide down to the floor, felt her head fall back against the door. For the first time in forever, they were sitting back to back. And for the first time in forever, Elsa wasn't glad for the wood and ice between them.

The snow fell harder from thin air, gathering on Elsa's shoulders. _Be the good girl you always have to be._

"… Do you want to build a snowman…?"

Her nails dug into her arms as Elsa listened to the sound she hated most in the world; more than the crack of ice, more than laughter outside the gates, more than silence.

Her sister was crying.

It was only supposed to be two weeks. She'd had a king's promise. Papa had lowered his head to hers and smiled with his warm gaze… _You'll be fine, Elsa._

He'd promised.

But now Elsa was cold and small, and Anna was crying in a place she couldn't reach. Her room – her safety, her prison – was frozen solid.

She wasn't fine.

Raising her head just a little, Elsa opened her eyes. The unfallen tears made everything a white blur. She heard Anna stifle a sob, pictured her wiping her face, and suddenly Elsa's own face was wet.

"I really, really do," she whispered.

She heard Anna sniffle. A long pause.

Then her sister's small voice seeped through the wood and ice and silence. "Elsa?"

Elsa's eyes widened, a tear falling from her lashes. She felt her father's stare. _Elsa,_ he murmured. _What have you done?_

She buried her face back in her arms.

"Elsa?" Anna tried again.

Moonlight trickled through the sliver under her door and shone in from the arched windows in the hallway. The last time Elsa had let herself look through those windows, it was to watch their parents' carriage make its way to the ship. Maybe if she hadn't looked, they would have returned. Maybe Elsa had cursed them.

The faint light shifted as Anna moved. Her bubbly haste was missing, but so was the sound of her crying. It was the only thing that comforted Elsa right now.

A long stretch of silence. Then- _knock knock kno-knock knock._

Elsa's head came up as Anna asked again, "Do you want to build a snowman? It doesn't have to be a snowman."

The familiar muffle of her sister pressing her lips to the keyhole put the smallest of smiles on Elsa's face. _Of course I want to build a snowman, Anna._

Suddenly, the words threatened to rise with the lump in her throat. Keeping them down made her voice crack. Instead, hesitantly-

"Goodnight, Anna," Elsa said, for the first time in ten years.

She always listened for the sound of Anna leaving, the dejected "okay, bye" and dragging feet. If Anna turned around, Elsa would think to herself, she'd give her sister a chance, any chance. But when Anna did turn around and knock her hopeful knock one more time, Elsa's _Have you been well?_ or _I miss you, too_ always turned into _Go away, Anna_ , and she'd feel even worse. She had stopped wishing; yet in spite of everything, Elsa never stopped listening.

But this time, she didn't hear Anna leave.

"Good… Goodnight, Elsa."

This time, Elsa simply heard Anna. No knocks, no goodbyes – just Anna.


	2. Eight Thousand Salad Plates

Anna dreamed of snow. It wasn't falling from the sky; it was simply there. White slopes piled across the courtyard, powdering the frozen fountains and giving everything a soft glow. She loved it. And when Anna reached down to gather a snowball, she noticed gleefully that her hands were small like a child's.

She began to roll snow. Someone had started building a snowman nearby so Anna hauled her ball over. Moments later, a pair of gloved hands dropped an oval head onto the pile. Twig arms appeared, followed by a carrot nose and a wide dotted smile. Anna laughed. The snowman was done, just like magic.

The other builder came to her side. Anna looked up, but their face was too high to see. Yet somehow, she knew she trusted this person. She watched as they moved behind the snowman and waved his arms about, speaking in a goofy voice, "Hi, I'm-"

A strong wind swept through, blowing Anna's pigtails into her face. She had to close her eyes. When she opened them again, the snow was gone and she was alone. Only the snowman remained, but even he was beginning to melt.

As his snowy cheeks drooped askew, Anna reached out and called, "Wait! What's your name?"

"… _in the hallways, poor child…"_

The snowman crumpled into the ground. The wind returned. Shielding her face, Anna turned around. Her eyes widened.

"… _my lady?"_

The gates were open.

"Princess Anna! Please, get up!"

And up Anna got – but just one leg. Her foot smacked into something soft and fleshy. Someone yelped. Her eyes flew open. "Where's the chocolate – oh! I'm so sorry, Kai! Here, let me – ow!" Her head cracked into hard wood and stars burst out.

Clutching her skull, Anna groaned, "Ooh, who put this door here?"

Gerda's concerned face appeared above her. "You slept by Princess Elsa's room the entire night, my lady. What were you thinking?"

"Well, I probably wasn't. But I… wait, what?"

Anna twisted around – and there it was: the white door against her back. Dazed, she put a hand on its surface. It was cold.

_Goodnight, Anna._

Kai stopped nursing his shin and fixed his bow tie. "Your breakfast is waiting for you in the hall, ma’am. Please prepare yourself for the day."

"Great – I'm starving!" Anna made to rise but immediately smacked her head again, this time on the door knob. A blanket slid off her shoulders - so that was what she'd tripped on!

Wait, a blanket?

She picked it up. It smelled of tea leaves and fresh snow.

The door was still at her back. Anna pictured it easing open. She tried to feel Elsa's hands, strained to hear anything her sister might have whispered in the darkness.

_I really, really do…_

Anna jumped up, startling Kai and Gerda.

She messed up her special knock in her haste. "Elsa," Anna called into the keyhole, clutching her sister's blanket. "Let's eat breakfast together!"

Silence, as usual. But Elsa had to be listening. Anna used to think Elsa heard everything that went on in the castle, because Mama told her quiet people didn't get distracted by their own noise. Then again, she might've said it just to make Anna quieten down. Now Anna would never know.

"Come on, I know you're up – the sky's awake."

Gerda placed her hand on Anna's shoulder but didn't say anything. Just like her father.

An unladylike growl rumbled from Anna's stomach. How could Elsa resist that mouth-watering aroma of Arendelle's best cuisine? Actually, how could her sister resist _everything_?

"Fine," Anna announced, throwing up her hands. She flopped back down, though not without tripping on her skirt. "If you won't eat with me, I'm eating with you. Gerda, please bring my breakfast here."

"I'm sorry?"

"I'm eating right here."

"I don't think-" Kai began.

"Papa let me eat in the stables with the horses sometimes – and you know, he's the _king_." _Was. Was the king._

"I'm quite sure His Majesty wasn't aware of those instances-"

"Please, Kai? Gerda?" Looking up at the servants who had watched her grow up, Anna felt as small as she had in her dream… only this didn't make her feel warm and safe. Goosebumps shivered on her arms. Anna drew Elsa's blanket around her shoulders. "Please?" she said again. She didn't even know her voice could be so quiet. "Papa… won't find out about it."

The servants looked at each other. It was the same look Anna had caught them sharing when she'd stood between her mother and father for the last time, while the priest made blessings in an old tongue she didn't understand. Elsa probably would've made sense of it… if she'd been there. But that was okay; Anna had been fine on her own. She was always fine.

Kai and Gerda bowed low and left. Anna loved the two of them, but she really wished they wouldn't look at her so pitifully. It wasn't like _her_ ship had capsized-

Her breath caught.

"Oh, no," she whispered, feeling that awful prick in her eyes again. No, no, no. She'd had enough of that last night. 

_If you cry too much,_ Elsa had once whispered when they were little, _your tears will create a big monster that will eat all the chocolate in Arendelle._

Anna's laugh came out as a hitched hiccup. Did Elsa even like chocolate anymore?

Anna wiped her eyes on the blanket, and then remembered it wasn't hers. "Do you mind if I hold onto this for a bit longer?" she asked the white door. "It's kind of cold out here. Oh gosh, I hope you don't catch a cold because of me! It's terrible being sick. You can't go outside and there's so much nice food you can't have. Every time I'm sick Mama always-"

Anna stopped. There was no sound from Elsa's room. Anna drew her knees to her chest. She wasn't hungry anymore, which was strange because she felt particularly empty right now, and it wasn't just her stomach.

Gerda had to be on her way back with her breakfast. Anna pictured her meal just sitting there on the long dining table; and then suddenly it was _her_ sitting at the table, picking at her greens and making conversation to all the vacant chairs around her.

"Oh," Anna said softly. Because that was how it would be from now on, wouldn't it?

Her eyes stung so badly. She tilted her head back, blinking fast, keeping it all in. _I'm okay. Totally fine. Elsa eats by herself all the time._

But she was still glowering up at the ceiling when Gerda returned with a tray, eyes red and wet. "I'm protecting Arendelle's chocolate," Anna said fiercely. Gerda hesitated before smiling and leaving her alone. But Anna wasn't so sure she wanted to be alone. She didn't want to get used to it.

So she kept talking as her fork chased blueberries around the plate, pretending she and Elsa were only separated by a table and not a door. "Did you know I dreamed that we were building a snowman? Well, you did most of the building. I put his nose in. We even gave him a name but…" But the wind had blown and the gates had opened, and she'd never thought that freedom could also demand loneliness. "A-Anyway, it was a good dream."

A blueberry shot off the plate. Anna pretended not to see it. "I used to think you snuck out at night to play by yourself. I'd camp out here and try to catch you out. Only I'd, um, fall asleep. Papa always knew. I don't know how; I mean, it's not like I _snore_ or anything. Then he'd carry me back to bed. One day I told him he didn't have to walk all the way to my room; I could just sleep in Elsa's bed. He patted my head and didn't say anything. He does… did… that a lot…"

_I'm okay. I'm always okay. Have courage._

She put the fork down and wound her fingers together.

"Elsa? Can you talk to me? Please? It's… it's so quiet."

She waited, but the quiet stayed.

Maybe she'd imagined her sister's voice last night. Maybe Joan and the other paintings had to be enough.

Anna got to her feet. It was bright outside. She was almost round the corner before she realised she still had Elsa's blanket. She had been clinging to it the entire time. Maybe because it smelled like childhood; of burrowing into Elsa's bed for a story, or a bad dream, or waking her sister to make snowmen. Anna had spent years keeping those memories in her now too-big, too-quiet room… which she was trudging back to now, while the person she'd made those memories with stayed locked in an equally too-big, too-quiet room.

"Darn it, Anna," she groaned. "What are you doing?"

Back in front of the white door, Anna took a deep breath and drew the blanket tighter. She raised her hand to knock and-

And footsteps. Muffled and hurried. Anna's eyes widened.

"Anna… wait!"

The white door burst open.


	3. Love Is An Open Door

The king climbed awkwardly onto the ladder, hitching a portrait of himself under one arm. Elsa was terrified for him to say the least, even though he'd assured her he was in no more danger than he was in her presence… which she wasn't so sure about. Her… powers had only gotten worse in the four years since she’d isolated herself behind this white door.

Elsa dreaded the day her gloves wouldn't be enough.

"Every heir to Arendelle's throne had their predecessor's portrait in their room," the king informed her over his shoulder, as he raised the hammer. Elsa flinched and begged her father to mind his fingers. "They watch over and advise us. They remind us not to make the same mistakes they – argh!" Her father clutched his thumb.

Elsa couldn't bear to look.

"I suppose that is my first lesson to you: monarchs are terrible carpenters. Learn it well, Elsa; it is a most… painful experience."

Elsa peeked through her gloves. _She_ had known that already, but her father was just like Anna sometimes. Just sometimes, but it was there.

Waving his hand gingerly, her father stepped off the ladder and admired his work. Elsa didn't have it in her to point out that it was crooked.

"Elsa." The king's gaze turned to her. "You're my heir," he told her.

A sheen of frost crept up the painting's gilded frame. They both noticed it. The corner of her father's lips tightened but he didn't take his eyes off hers. Elsa pushed her hands behind her back. "I-I know, Father."

"Does that frighten you?"

"No… of course not."

Her father sighed. "Now I must teach you another lesson: kings and queens must know to see through lies."

The room's temperature fell. Elsa twisted her fingers. "Anna would make a better leader," she blurted.

Her father raised an eyebrow. Somewhere downstairs, they heard Anna's bicycle crash into the poor knight's armour – again.

Elsa rephrased, " _I_ would make an awful leader… I don't know my people or their streets and… I can't be around them. Father, I-"

"Conceal it, don't feel it," the king cut in. His voice was firm. But snow started to fall. His eyes softened. "Don't let it show. Don't you see, Elsa?"

She couldn't look at him. "I do—I'm trying! But I can't stop it; I can't control it."

"No, Elsa." Her father stepped towards her. Elsa inhaled sharply. It felt wrong to be so close to someone she loved so much. "Conceal, don't feel," Papa murmured. "This is what it means to be a king… a queen. Only those who understand that can become worthy rulers."

Elsa stared into her father's solemn expression.

"There is no one better suited to lead this country than you, Elsa of Arendelle."

"But I-"

"One day, you will have to face our people, and Anna. You will learn to control your powers. They are… they can make you strong."

"What if I hurt them?"

"You will be fine. I promise you." Those special words stopped the falling snow. Her Papa's gentle hands took her by the shoulders and turned her to face his portrait; the one he had nailed on her wall with his own, clumsy hands. "Remember, I will be around for much longer to teach you my mistakes. Take your time, Elsa… but not too long."

"Not too long?" she asked.

He smiled. "Anna is waiting."

* * *

She hadn't moved in hours. Her room wasn't frozen anymore – just cold in a way that had never bothered her. She'd spent all night watching the ice run down the walls. She was starving.

Anna was still camped outside her door.

She was supposedly eating her breakfast there, though Elsa knew she hadn't touched it. Anna always talked with her mouth full, and the only thing that filled her voice now was forced smiles.

She shouldn't have said anything last night. And the blanket… that had been her worst mistake in all ten years.

Hugging her knees on the windowsill, Elsa's gaze wandered once more to the painting above her dresser. It was the same one the public still mourned over in the village square, only this one hung crooked. Looking at it, Elsa's face crumpled.

"I haven't learned all your mistakes yet, Father."

Outside, Anna was telling her door about a dream. The more Elsa listened, the chillier her room became. _It wasn't a dream, Anna._ But she couldn't say that aloud. Not with her father watching.

_Conceal it, don't feel it._

"Papa always knew," Anna was saying. Elsa turned towards the door just as her sister's animated voice got smaller. "He patted my head and didn't say anything. He does… did… that a lot…"

Elsa closed her eyes. Ice blurred across the windowpanes.

"Elsa?"

_Don't let it show._

"Can you talk to me? Please? It's… it's so quiet."

Her breath misted in the chilly air. Any more and Anna would notice the cold. And that could never, never happen.

Elsa heard her sister leave.

_One day, you will have to face our people, and Anna._

"I didn't think it would come so soon," Elsa said to her father. But he just kept looking at her without saying anything, just like he always had.

Anna’s feet dragged down the hallway. It was a sound Elsa never looked forward to, but she didn't hate it – not the way she hated Anna crying.

She wondered if Anna would cry alone in her room.

Elsa's bare feet tentatively brushed the lacquered floorboards, the chill dancing across her skin. Her dress flowed down from the ledge with a soft _swish_ , and suddenly it was the only sound in the room, in the entire palace.

Would Anna turn around this time?

What if this was the last time?

Biting her lip, Elsa found herself taking slow steps across her room. She'd always known when Anna slept outside her door; after all, Elsa was the one who snuck out, just like Anna thought, to tell their father. But Papa couldn't look out for Anna anymore. He wasn't even watching Elsa.

And deep down, Elsa could still hear Anna sobbing in the dark.

Her lips parted, took in a shallow breath. But nothing came out. She didn't know what to say. Her hand trembled on the door handle. It hadn't frozen, not yet, but it would. It always did.

_Anna is waiting._

Elsa squeezed her eyes shut.

"Anna… wait!"

She opened the door – and there stood Anna, her hand raised to knock.

Elsa's eyes widened. Anna's mouth hung open.

Then Anna lost her balance.

Elsa reached out to catch her without thinking, but Anna slipped on her untouched breakfast tray and flipped heels over head with a _"Ho-ho-whooaaa!"_ Blueberries and cereal spattered the walls, followed by the clang of silverware and the all-too-familiar crash of… Anna.

Elsa winced.

Her sister lay sprawled in a royally inappropriate heap, drenched in milk. "Hi, ground," Anna moaned as she sat up. "I can't say I missed you. Ow, ow, there goes my hopefully unimportant organ…"

"A-Are you okay?"

"Who, me? Oh, yeah! Yeah, I'm fine – peachy, really. I mean, it's not like I didn't do the same thing last week with-" Anna stopped. There was jam in her hair and bewilderment in her eyes. Then she blinked. "Oh my goodness. El-"

Elsa slammed the door shut.

 _Conceal, don't feel, conceal, don't feel –_ but Elsa didn't know what she was feeling right now, because surely it couldn't be _nothing_. Her mind was blank, her breathing hard as if she'd run.

She heard Anna picking herself off the ground, slipping and sliding. "Well, um… good morning to you, too?"

 _Good morning. How have you been? You have no idea how much I miss you._ "Go aw-" Elsa clapped her hands to her mouth.

"Sorry about the mess. I'll clean up right now– ah! … Ow. Okay, maybe I'll get Gerda. I'll be right back – just, uh, don't come out? Wait, what?"

Elsa looked down at the door handle, and exhaled.

"I don't mean _don't_ come out; it's just that you _shouldn't_ … no, wait. Ugh, I'm making this so awkward…"

"Olaf," Elsa said softly.

Anna went quiet for a long moment. "Elsa?" she asked uncertainly. “Did you… did you say something?”

The door opened again, just a crack. A cool breeze trickled into the hallway. Elsa kept herself pressed to the wall, out of sight, and took in a deep breath. "The snowman that we made. His name was Olaf."

Anna's damp skirt fluttered by the small opening. Elsa tightened her grip on the handle but Anna didn't force her way in. She didn't even try to peek inside.

Instead, Elsa felt her sister lean back on the other side of the wall. "Olaf…? That's right – Olaf! How could I forget? We even took him ice-skating with us. I loved Olaf!"

Elsa nodded to no one and realised she was smiling.

"I didn't expect you to remember things like this," Anna admitted. "I thought you'd only remember… I don't know – the Honorary Code, or something stiff like Arendelle's _trade agreements_ " – Elsa blinked and looked over at her desk, where a bound copy of precisely the latter lay bookmarked – "which I'm not saying is a bad thing because, well, my tutors would start crying if _I_ knew that stuff. It's just… you know." Anna paused to breathe, and possibly to think. Then she started from the beginning. "It's good to see you again, Elsa."

Elsa glanced down at her gloves. "It's good to see you, too." She was surprised how smoothly it came out. Perhaps she had finally learned to conceal like their father. She glanced down at the sliver of light across the floor, searching. "Your hair has grown," she offered.

"Has it? So has yours. I think. This is so embarrassing. We haven't seen each other's faces in months and I just have to be wearing my breakfast."

"You should change into something dry. Before you get sick.”

"Trust me, I will." But it didn't sound like Anna was going anywhere.

An uncomfortable silence fell. Anna started to hum, then stopped self-consciously. Something inside Elsa unclenched, just a little.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, totally. I fall over all the time, which isn't really something to brag about."

"No, I meant, are you alright with– everything."

Finally, Anna understood. "Oh. I-I guess I'm holding up okay. What about you?"

_Kings and queens must know to see through lies._

"Anna, I am so sorry. For leaving you to attend the… ceremony on your own. It must have been hard for you."

"What? No, don't apologise. It didn't bother me. Everyone was really nice." Anna was silent for a while. Then she let out a sigh. "Are you sure we can't eat together? Because I'd really, really like that."

There it was. "I can't, Anna."

"Why not? You came to dinner sometimes."

"That was because Father and Mother were there."

Too late, Elsa heard herself. Her hands shot to her mouth as she pressed herself to the wall, eyes filling up.

Anna’s faltering reply come out thick with hurt. "So it _is_ my fault? That you don't leave your room or see anyone anymore?"

"Please, Anna, it's not like that."

"Then why? It's just a meal."

A burst of icicles erupted near the chandelier. "I just– can't. It's for your own good, I promise-"

"Elsa, there are fifty-eight seats at the dinner table – yes, I counted. And there's only one of me. How is that good for me? For anyone?"

It wasn't. Elsa, of all people, knew that best. But she couldn't be around Anna, or anyone, while her powers were like this. _It_ could happen again, and their father wouldn't be around to fix it.

She couldn't risk it.

Then Anna announced, "Fine. I guess I'll just have to eat here from now on."

Elsa's head came up. She didn't believe it enough to find her voice, not even to be horrified.

"We're going to be okay, Elsa." There wasn't any doubt in Anna's voice, even though Elsa heard tears on the verge of it all. "We're going to be okay," Anna repeated stubbornly.

_You'll be fine, Elsa._

The door fell shut beneath Elsa's hand. She heard Anna leave, this time squelching down the stairs. Slowly, Elsa made her way back to the windowsill.

Her feet splashed into cold water.

Elsa looked around her room, and realised the floor was wet with thawed ice.


	4. Some Company Is Overdue

"Um…" The kitchen hand did not know where to begin. "I was under the impression Princess Elsa disliked cashew nuts?"

"Good! Maybe she'll take the hint this time!" Anna remarked vehemently, dumping handfuls of nuts across the plate.

"Forget it, Markus," the head chef said, clapping a beefy hand on the young man's shoulder. "This is not 'a princess' you're arguing with; it's ' _that_ princess'."

"Hey! I heard that!"

"Please pardon my inability to whisper, Your Highness; the moustache gets in the way. Might I also quietly point out you're getting nuts on your own lunch?"

"Blergh!" Anna flicked the little devils from her plate. The chef watched with an amused smile, twisting his tiny moustache. Anna glowered at him.

She remembered when the royal kitchen used to be a clamouring bustle of a dozen white-topped chefs and their brigand of assistants, every inch of scrubbed countertop overflowing with extravagant dishes not found in any recipe book. Then the gates closed and the king cut his staff. One by one, the chefs dwindled, and now the castle’s kitchen seemed a cavern for one lone chef and his half-dozen helpers… and an overly adventurous princess. Anna had practically grown up in the kitchen. No one thought to keep her out of it, least of all the chef. Anna loved all the palace staff, but she had a special spot for Alfred.

He peered at her with a good-natured smirk. "Did something perhaps… _happen_ between you and Princess Elsa?"

"I don't know – does _ignoring me_ count?"

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, Your Highness. It took you ten years to notice?"

"Yes– wait, no – _Alfred!_ " Anna threw up her hands, scattering more nuts. "It's different this time, okay? Elsa _talked_ to me. We talked about hair and snowmen and… stuff! Sisters talk about things like that, right? I thought we were getting somewhere. And now she won't say a thing to me – she doesn't even bother telling me to go away. Which totally wouldn't work anyway because, you know, it just won't." She munched dramatically on a fistful of grapes. "This is all so frustrating!"

Alfred made a thoughtful hum. "Well, little crown," he said, making her smile in spite of herself. "Something is always better than nothing."

"Yeah, but I don't know if I'd call this 'something'."

"You call everything anything, little crown."

That was true.

"Alf?"

"Yes, Your Highness?"

"Does Elsa really, _really_ hate cashew nuts?"

"Only as strongly as you feel about sour cream, Princess."

Anna made a face and looked down at the colourful mess she'd made on Elsa's sandwiches. A small (okay, kind of big) bite of guilt tugged at her. "… Fine. I deserve some sour cream on mine. But just a little!"

Alfred brandished a spoon.

* * *

Slowly opening the door, a stare, a sigh, a half-hearted pleading look – that was how Elsa usually responded to Anna's deliveries.

Today, there was an extra grimace as her sister took in the culinary battlefield.

"Alf let me decorate," Anna grinned innocently.

Elsa gingerly took the tray. She lingered to watch Anna settle down on the floor with her own meal, and then closed the door with another soft sigh.

The first thing Anna did was push the mountain of sour cream to one side. Stupid, evil, _justified_ Alfred. Anna ripped a grumpy bite from her sandwich. Then she took out the pen and paper.

_You can't ignore me forever,_ she scrawled, drawing an upset snowman for good measure. She slipped the paper under the white door.

On the bright side, Alf smoked the _best_ salmon.

_What's in your sandwitch?_

_I'm kind of annoyed with you! (In case you couldn't tell)_

_Which letter of the alphabet has the most water?_

_I found a bird's nest on the stable roofs. Want to see?_

_Do you even read these notes?_

Anna pushed her plate to one side. She pressed an ear to the keyhole. Nothing. One week, less than ten words exchanged _and_ Elsa hadn't replied to a single one of her notes. Anna realised she hadn't tried this hard in a long time. She used to climb windows, play noisy instruments, cry wolf – everything. Elsa stopped responding to each one as they grew older, and at some point Anna had stopped trying.

Maybe things would have been different if she had been more stubborn.

She was almost out of paper.

_Are you mad at me?_

_I'm sorry if you are…_ She started to write more but the words didn't come out right. She shoved it aside.

One slip of paper left. Anna twirled her pen, dropped it, twirled it again, then hesitantly put it to paper.

_Sometimes I'm scared I'll forget the sound of your voice._

She scrunched it up quickly and lobbed it out the open window, so shocked that she'd written such a thing.

Nothing came back through the door.

Years of silence had made Anna an expert at conjuring excuses for her sister. Who knew? Elsa could be a slow eater. She could spend the whole day lounging in bed, never looking near the door. Or the slit beneath the door could be a portal to a magical wonderland, and Anna's notes were actually being intercepted by a clumsy old wizard. Sometimes she shared these theories with the white door, even though Elsa never confirmed any of them.

Anna thought Elsa was being cruel, but the thought tasted like sour cream and she hated that.

"Hey," she called after a pause. "You don't have to eat the nuts if you don't like them. I'm just kidding. I'm not _really_ mad at you."

It _was_ a funny thought, though. Being angry with Elsa. It was probably a weird thing to never have argued with your own sister. Anna was sure she and Elsa would've fought growing up together, princesses or not. All siblings fought, right? Anna knew that much from climbing the watchtowers. She'd watch kids chase each other on the streets, and remember how she and Elsa once played hide and seek. Elsa always found her no matter which suit of armour she was hiding in.

"What happened?" Anna wondered aloud. Not to Elsa or her door; just… wondering.

She thought she heard Elsa sigh.

Anna was thinking about leaving when she felt something flutter against her hand. She looked down to see the corner of a ruffled paper slip poking out from the door.

Snatching it up, Anna scanned over her own handwriting – _What's in your sandwitch?_ Fresh ink had crossed out the 't'. And on the other side, in neat cursive Anna envied to the ends of the earth: _I should talk to your tutors._

"Really, Elsa?" Anna called, smiling. "Did you figure out the riddle?"

It took a few moments, but Elsa answered. _Knock knock kno-knock knock. Tell me._

Anna knelt up to the keyhole, and all of a sudden she was a child again. "Which letter of the alphabet has the most water?"

She held a long pause, threading Elsa along, until finally her sister gave another knock of exasperation. Anna's grin widened.

"The C!" she said proudly.

One heartbeat… two… three–

And she heard it. A bubble of giggles burst from Anna's own lips, relieved and disbelieving. It struck her that she was an idiot.

After all, no little sister could ever forget the sound of their favourite person's laughter.


	5. We Know Better

In Elsa's memory, she was small and drowsy, and it was the first night in a long time that she was letting Papa tuck her in. As he secured the blanket around her shoulders, she asked in a muffled voice, "Papa? Is Anna asleep?"

Chuckling, her father cupped his large hand against her head. He was warm. "Yes, Princess. I wager you might even hear her snoring from here."

Elsa fell asleep before she could tell her father that on some nights, she really could.

And she had never told him that she sometimes woke in the grey hours with a pounding heart and the chill of snowflakes on her skin, clutching her chest through a damp nightgown. But she had a feeling her father had always known. After all, his portrait had watched her toss and turn beneath the sheets for years.

This time, Elsa woke to the hiss of rain crystallising to ice against her window.

 _Please, no,_ she prayed. But when she opened her eyes, her room was powdered white.

She didn't even know what she'd been dreaming of.

Elsa sat up. Icy dew seeped into her nightgown. She realised she was shivering, and it wasn’t from the cold. "Melt," she said helplessly. "Please. Just… go away."

It didn't. It never did.

_You will learn to control your powers._

She couldn't look at her father's portrait. She couldn't stay where his strong gaze could find her.

Wrapping the blanket around herself, Elsa slid out of bed. The snow was soft beneath her feet – almost warm, somehow – but goosebumps prickled her skin anyway. She hurried to the door, only to hesitate and look back.

Her room could have belonged in a child's snow globe; timeless, untouchable. For a fleeting second, Elsa remembered what it was like to be awed by the beauty of her powers, to feel excited that she could make snowmen with a mere thought. She remembered… liking her powers.

Then the moment was gone, and Elsa shut herself out of the room.

Outside, the corridor was dark and quiet. The sky wasn't even awake yet. Elsa held her breath, afraid the ice would spread through the cracks. But the door stayed closed, and Elsa's quick breathing was the only sound breaking the palace's pre-dawn tranquillity. Anna and everyone else were safe… for now.

Elsa looked down at herself. She had nothing but slippers, a blanket and nowhere to go. If anyone saw her now, they wouldn't believe she was the future mistress of this great palace. Elsa would've laughed if she wasn't so terrified by the thought.

She was going to be queen. In less than three years, she'd hold the orb and sceptre in front of her people… _her people._ How could her father promise that she would be ready when she so clearly never would be?

A cold tingle spread beneath her palm. _Don't feel, don't feel…_

There was a deep growl in the darkness.

Eyes widening, Elsa turned around. The corridor was empty.

Then– _snort_. And the rumbling resumed.

Elsa couldn't help smiling when she recognised that sound. _Anna._ She didn't know how she'd ever slept in the same room with that awful noise And yet she would return to those days in a heartbeat.

Except she hadn't heard Anna snore this loudly in a long time. It was as if there wasn't a door between them… Elsa slipped around the corner.

Anna's door was wide open. But the room beyond was silent. Which meant–

Elsa backtracked, her blanket swirling like a cape. The sounds went past her room, around another corner. And as Elsa turned it, she had a sinking feeling that she knew where they were taking her.

Her feet remembered this path. They'd worn it thin on many nights like this, until she’d realised she couldn't keep going to them… and she was right. But not like this. If she'd known, she would have gone to them a thousand nights over. She would have…

She stopped at the bottom of a carpeted staircase.

Fast asleep at the top, curled against their parents' bedroom door, was Anna.

There was no way her sister could be comfortable in that position. Then again, Anna at five hadn't been picky with her sleeping surfaces and it should have comforted Elsa to find that some things never changed. But it didn't comfort her, because this was not a study desk or the stables, or even Elsa herself—this was everything that haunted her dreams.

Elsa raised her gaze to the double mahogany doors. It used to take both of them just to open one of those doors. Their mother made a point of leaving them open. _Sometimes there are doors that we can't see in life,_ she'd said once. _That is why we should practice opening the ones we can see._

Elsa hadn't understood. Not until the gates had to close because of her, and by then it was much too late.

Her nails cut crescents into her palms as she climbed the first step.

Up close, Anna's sleep did not look as restful as Elsa had thought. She twitched and mumbled. Elsa held her breath, but her sister dozed on with a line of drool on her chin. Very carefully, Elsa tucked her blanket around her sister. Anna’s hair was a nest, but the single white lock shone bright in the dimness.

Elsa drew back and was halfway down the stairs before she realised she couldn't knock to tell Father that Anna was sleeping outside again. She couldn't tell her mother that she finally understood her words from all those years ago. There was no one left to open Elsa's doors when she slammed them shut… and no one to shield Anna when she left herself wide open.

Elsa wished she hadn't left her room. She wished Anna knew better, wished that their parents hadn't boarded their ship. She wished none of this had ever happened.

She went back and gently shook Anna's knee. "Wake up, Anna. Please. Anna."

No response. Elsa tried a while longer, and then gave up. She realised she hadn't tried at all; not the way Anna tried with her. And yet she felt weary.

Elsa sat down beside her sister; far enough that they wouldn't touch, close enough to hear Anna's soft breathing. Elsa pulled her knees up and dropped her head with a sigh. Her throat clenched.

"We can't wait here forever, Anna… they won't be coming back."

The words drifted into the early morning chill and were gone. Elsa could never take them back again, and she foolishly didn't think it was a mistake until-

"I know."

Elsa's head shot up. Anna hadn't moved, her face hidden in the shadows.

But her voice told Elsa she had been crying.

"Anna–"

"It's okay – _I'm_ okay," Anna said quickly. She sniffled, and then gave a quiet laugh. "Do you think I sleepwalk? Because sometimes Alfred says a cat raided his kitchen and I wake up with chocolate on my face – but don't go telling him that, okay?"

Elsa tried to smile. "Go back to your room, Anna. You'll catch a cold."

Anna pushed her hair from her face. Then she looked meekly at Elsa. "I look like an idiot, don't I? Sleeping out– here."

She didn't, and never would. But if agreeing with her sister was all it took to shield her from all the world’s cruelty, Elsa would do it. If only.

"Okay, you totally think I'm lame. It’s fine." Anna filled in her sister's silence. Then she sighed. "I was going to go in but… I guess I couldn't. So I was going to leave except, well, I couldn't do that either... It's funny, huh? I'm usually pretty good at running in without thinking.”

Anna was good at that, Elsa realised. Distracting people from herself. She'd never seen it before; now it was all she could see. And when Anna, wiping her face, turned to give her a wobbly grin, Elsa felt something old and warm stir within her.

"I miss them, too."

Anna closed her mouth. She curled up tighter, and so did Elsa. Neither of them spoke for a long time.

Elsa stiffened when Anna leaned into her. But Anna didn't give her a chance to bring her walls up. "Elsa? We'll be okay, won't we?"

And Elsa realised that Anna had only pretended to know the answer, that day outside her door. She had been waiting for someone to agree with her… and the white door never answered. But now the door was behind them rather than in between, and Elsa had never wanted to believe something so desperately.

"You'll be fine, Anna… I promise."

Anna just nodded into her arm. Moments later, she was asleep again, her steady breathing warm against Elsa's neck. Elsa pulled her hands closer to her chest, just in case. She'd forgotten how heavy and warm Anna could be… but Anna clearly hadn't forgotten how to trust someone with all her weight. She still believed in empty promises. She still believed everything that her big sister told her.

"I missed you, too," Elsa whispered. It was all she could manage before Anna's strand of white – _her_ white – started to burn a terrible memory into her skin. She couldn't let that night happen again.

But every question she answered, every note she passed, every piece of warmth she received… they were dangerously breaking down all that she had hidden behind for the last ten years. And suddenly Elsa didn't want the sky to wake, because everything she felt in this moment had become far too precious to conceal.


	6. Somewhere In That Zone

Chestnut didn't think she was doing it right.

"What was that? 'Anna is only good at breaking things'? Well, excuse you! What do you know about fixing bikes, you apple addict?"

Her horse just looked at her. Anna stared back. Chestnut tilted his head. She dropped the screwdriver.

" _Fine_ , I'm only good at breaking things. Happy?"

Satisfied, Chestnut returned to his apple. It was just silly how jumpy and scared he was of everything except her, and apparently anything he wasn't afraid of got bossed around. He'd probably get her lost on a mountain someday, but she loved the silly creature anyway.

Then Anna looked at the scrap of metal and wheels, and felt a tremor of despair. "Why didn't you tell me this was a bad idea _before_ I made it worse?" she wailed.

After all, what kind of idiot would ride a bike down two flights of stairs _without sitting on it_? And what kind of maniac would dream of fixing such a wreck after leaving it to rust for so long?

"… Don't answer that."

Chestnut snorted.

Anna's fingers trailed along the bike's scratched frame, up one seat and across to the other. She remembered when her legs weren't even long enough to reach – she'd bugged Mama and Papa about that for months. Elsa had pedalled double-time while Anna steered, which probably explained why they never really got anywhere. So Anna drank her milk and ate all her greens, and finally her feet could reach the pedals… but by then Elsa didn't want to ride their bike around the halls anymore.

And this morning, in the middle of brushing her teeth, it struck Anna that they had never actually ridden their bike together.

Except she'd crashed and hidden it in the barn for two whole years. And Plan A had kind of gone to pieces with the rest of the bike.

If there had been any chance of salvaging the relic, it was all gone now. She should've told Kai to find someone who actually knew what they were doing. Because surely no fool would take apart something they had absolutely no idea how to put back together – seriously, who did that?

"You don't understand, buddy," Anna moaned, scratching Chestnut's ears. " _I_ have to be the one to fix it. Never mind I'm also the one who broke it – but honestly, who puts a suit of armour _right there_? Anyway, it just has to be me." Chestnut nipped her braid. "'Why'? What do you mean why? Obviously it's because… um… because…"

Anna's hand went up to touch that strange strand of white in her hair. Sometimes she dreamed she'd been kissed there by a troll, but on that special night she only remembered Elsa's warm cheek against her head.

_You'll be fine, Anna… I promise._

Chestnut nudged her shoulder. Anna leaned into his flank, breathing in his musky hay smell. He was really supposed to be Elsa's horse; a Christmas present. Anna had gotten, well, there were so many gifts from Alfred and the palace staff that she didn't remember what her parents had given her. And even though Elsa only received two presents that year, Anna still remembered being jealous.

He was white and shy, and Mama called him Gulbrand, or Gunnar, or something just as stuffy, which Anna thought was absurd because the pony was obviously too beautiful for a name like that. And he reminded her of Elsa, so, so much.

But when Papa put his reins in Elsa's hands, Anna had watched her sister's awe dissolve into fear. Her wide blue eyes stared at the pony – and then, almost by accident, they landed on Anna, who had practically draped herself over his neck in excitement.

Elsa slowly walked up to the pony. She raised a gloved hand to his snout, and stroked him carefully. Anna felt him shiver. Elsa pulled away. And gave Anna the reinns.

"He likes Anna more," she said to Papa. When he worriedly asked if she wanted another pony, Elsa just shook her head and said, "I have enough presents this year." Even if she had just given half of them away.

And Anna, partly ecstatic but mostly ashamed, couldn't find the words to thank her sister until the pony tried to eat her hair. He was the first Christmas present Elsa had given her in three years.

Chestnut snorted loudly. Anna blinked, and the answer was right there.

"She promised I would be okay but… she never said she would be, too."

Suddenly, Chestnut shook his entire body, throwing Anna off with a surprised "Hey!" She slipped on some screws and would've fallen spectacularly if Chestnut didn't rescue her with his long neck.

Clinging to salvation, Anna glared at her horse. "What was that for? I was trying to be serious! I do have that mode, you know."

He stamped and jerked his head. _Go, you chicken._

"Am not! What about you? You're a… a… oh dear, I'm talking to a horse. Ow! Okay, I'm going! I'm going!"

* * *

"Chestnut – that's what I called him, did I tell you? – he wanted to see – no wait. He wanted _me_ to see you… _I_ wanted to… see – damn it!"

She knew she should've ignored that silly horse! Then she wouldn't have to sound like such an awkward chipmunk in front of her sister and pretend – wait, why was she even pretending again?

Anna flopped back on her bed. She'd just about paced her room bald. She'd been doing that a lot lately, ever since that night Elsa found her outside their parents' door.

Come to think of it, she'd started doing a lot of new things since then. Fixing bikes, for example. She and Elsa talked a lot more, too. Which would've been the news of the century if all of it didn't feel so… so… _polite_.

Weather, food, _architecture_ , Arendelle, pigeons – they covered it all over breakfast, lunch and dinner. Sometimes they even had a laugh over dessert. And it wasn't like she wasn't happy about that – it was everything she'd spent all her birthday wishes on.

Everything, but just– not quite there.

Not quite the way it felt when they were still separated by the white door, only Anna was frustrated and begging, and Elsa was telling her to _Go away_ in that sad voice. Which was bizarre, because Anna never thought she would prefer being shut out over… _whatever_ they were doing right now.

It was just– it was like they were sweeping more and more of _that_ night under the door, trying to pretend they hadn't seen each other at their most honest moments and God, that had been so embarrassing–

"… Oh."

_Oh._

Anna slapped a pillow over her head. Because she was so _stupid_ … and because she didn't really want to remember how hard it was to cry in front of her sister without a door in between them. She'd spent so long blaming Elsa for her walls that she never realised what a hypocrite she was. But…

But the bad dreams had stayed away, and when she woke up Elsa was still warm and _there_ , right next to her and Anna hadn't felt so safe since they’d veiled their parents’ portrait.

And then they'd tried to pretend the whole thing hadn't happened.

In a flurry of bed sheets, Anna was out the door and stalking down the corridor, amazed that she wasn't the only idiot this time.

"Elsa, I'm coming in, okay?"

Anna didn't wait – she couldn't wait. Otherwise Elsa would shut her out and this daring courage would drain away, and they'd never move past weather, architecture and pigeons. And that was just torture. Anna had never been so sure of something so disastrous: she had to do it _right now_.

Except for some reason, she never expected the handle to actually turn… so when it did, Anna froze in shock, unable to push open the door. Because she never knew.

Had Elsa never locked her door?

Slowly, her fingers pulled away from the handle, leaving the door unopened. Anna tucked her hands behind her back like her actions had painted them red. But Elsa didn't come to the door – she probably wasn't even inside, and Anna was too dumbfounded to be surprised.

She was lucky. Elsa must be having her lessons with her tutor, just about the only reason she ever left her room. Anna used to be jealous (and maybe still was), but right now she felt just like she had when Elsa had handed over Chestnut's reins.

"Sorry," she breathed to the white door. "I can't go in there, can I?"

It watched her silently.

And then Anna _knew_.

She knew what they were going to talk about at dinner tonight, leaning on either side of this door. She'd tell Elsa how Chestnut was doing and that they should take him for a ride together, because their bike was too small for them anyway. They'd stumble awkwardly through memories of the things they used to do, and Elsa might apologise and Anna would try not to push too hard. And then she'd ask Elsa if she had always trusted her not to break through her door, or if that was exactly what she'd been waiting for all these years.

She really, really needed to know.

She wanted to promise that Elsa was going to be okay, too, because she deserved to be. She'd even steal a chocolate bunny from the kitchen, just like she did every Christmas–

_I have enough presents this year._

Anna's hands came up to her mouth. She stared at the white door, and her vision began to waver.

She didn't know anything at all.

"Anna? What are you doing?"

She whirled, wiping her eyes – and there was Elsa, a stack of books weighing down her arms. Anna met her sister's cautious gaze, and suddenly she couldn't help it.

She sniffled once, twice – and burst into tears.

" _Anna_?" Elsa put down the books, flustered. "Is something wrong? Are you hurt? I don't… please tell me what's wrong. I-I'm right here… Anna?"

Somehow that just made it all worse.

Anna blubbered, "Why didn't you just tell me that was all you wanted?"

Elsa looked bewildered. Anna wanted to dig a hole in the stables and stay there forever.

Then Elsa took a deep breath. "I-If you cry too much, your tears will create a big monster that will eat all the chocolate in Arendelle…"

Anna choked on tears and laughter. Elsa flushed and patted her back.

And Anna didn't quite understand it all; that sometimes you didn’t know what you wanted until someone gave it to you. But she did learn that the best gifts, like a chocolate bunny left outside a white door, were often accidents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know now that the official name of Anna's horse is Kjekk (so cute!) but I wrote this fic years ago and fancied him a Chestnut so it's stayed. Hope you're enjoying the chapters so far and thank you for your kind words!


	7. Twenty Feet of Fresh Powder

Elsa started drinking tea when she was twelve years old, around the same time her parents began training her in alcohol. After all, a royal who couldn't hold their liquor would not be a very wise aristocrat at all. And Elsa was the heir.

But she hated everything about it, from the thick aroma to the pungent flavour burning down her throat. Worse, she was terrified of the way its warm fuzz made her feel like there wasn't a single thing in the world to worry about. Her nervous fingers froze countless champagne flutes, and even when they didn't she imagined they formed tiny icicles in her bloodstream. That was the year she had been the worst to Anna, even though her sister had always been so excited to see her at the dinner table.

"Simply pretend," her mother told her after a particularly bad night. Elsa had barely held out until Anna ran from the dinner hall in her usual fashion, still cramming dessert into her mouth. She spent a lot of time with her new horse back then, but Elsa didn't have it in her to think about anything more than the storming migraines that pushed her restraint with each meal.

The moment the doors closed behind her sister, Elsa's glass shattered and the entire tablecloth turned to running sleet as she exhaled shakily against the pounding throb behind her eye.

Her parents had looked at each other with the same suppressed disappointment Elsa wished so badly not to be the cause of.

Her father half-rose from his seat, but gave up when he saw how strained Elsa's control already was. "Perhaps it's too early," he suggested quietly.

The queen didn't say anything. Instead, she knelt down by her daughter's side. "Don't touch me," Elsa started automatically, her eyes red. "Please… I don't want to-"

"You would never hurt us, Elsa," the queen said. "You couldn't."

"No! Please – I can't _think_ properly and-"

"Why must that be such a terrible thing?"

Elsa stopped and for one moment, the ache faded into the background as she stared into her mother's sad eyes.

The queen laid a hand on her knee. "Simply pretend."

The spilt wine had stained her skirt in patches of crimson butterflies. She wondered what Anna was doing right now. She wished she could run out and join her.

"Pretend that you are drinking tea."

"I… Mother, I don't know what tea tastes like."

"Then you'll simply have to believe me when I say it tastes like a sunny afternoon."

Elsa opened her mouth, but her mother smoothed a hand over her hair and shushed her like a child. "A cup of tea tastes like your favourite fairy tale. It smells of forgiving and forgetting, and when you drink to its bottom, you can read all the choices you never knew you had."

She'd closed her eyes then, but she still felt the light kiss on her temple, right above the throbbing pain. "I'm sorry, Elsa," her mother sighed. "Simply pretend that you don't have to pretend at all."

* * *

A scrabbling noise shook Elsa from her reverie. Blinking, she looked up from the bottom of her cup and the soft glare of the midday sun shone upon her face. The thick tome on her lap rested open at a fable she was too old to be reading while a ledger of Arendelle's latest accounts lay at her feet, unopened. Elsa averted her eyes in guilt.

"Oh," she breathed in surprise.

There was a black cat on the roof beyond her window. Looking at it, Elsa realised she and Anna used to chase a cat just like this one. Anna would follow it up pipes and through fences, and Elsa wouldn't be able to keep up. She would always wait at the bottom, laughing and calling, just in case Anna fell. But she was always fine… except for that ni-

_Meow._

The cat was still in the same spot, pawing at the burgundy tiles. "Be careful," Elsa murmured.

The huge, arching window was the only thing Elsa liked about her room. At times it was torture, but she would never give up her view of the palace grounds and the kingdom beyond the gates. Whenever Anna played in the courtyard, or when fireworks bloomed above the village, Elsa watched from the ledge with her head against the glass, and sometimes she simply pretended.

The cat looked back at her.

"Are you lost, little guy?"

It wasn't especially little, in truth. Elsa hadn't seen more than birds from her window for a long time. She'd never kept a pet in this room.

The cat shuffled on the spot, looking around its feet. Every cat Elsa had seen seemed comfortable with heights, and she wondered what gave this particular one pause when it finally took one careful step-

And she watched in horror as its hind legs buckled and it lost grip and rolled down the tiles, yowling, claws scrabbling– and the edge slid closer–

Elsa could hear the ocean in her ears.

The cat lay shocked in its cradle of snow. Then the cold startled it lucid. It hastily twisted and found purchase, clambered clumsily to higher tiles.

The snow began to run.

The window was frosted where Elsa had slammed her hands to the glass.

_Catch me…!_

The cat limped to the middle of the roof, sat down and shivered. Elsa held her hands to her chest. The cat called out, scratched nervously at the tiles. It was hurt; she knew it was… and now she desperately needed to know that she hadn't made it worse.

But the tiles were slick with dew and she'd never, not once, opened her huge windows. And the _drop_ …

She opened her mouth to call for someone, but fell short when she realised she didn't know how to.

The cat whimpered.

_Click_.

Elsa's eyes widened. She stared at her own fingers and the brass latch underneath – released.

Something swelled within her like a growing wave. For just one second, Elsa wondered if this was what it felt like to be free. To find out that something so small and simple could hold back so much.

The hinges squeaked. The cat jumped. Elsa froze.

Then it looked at her, right in the eyes, and the icy shores within her melted.

"Okay," she whispered. She carefully raised her knee to the ledge, pushing the glass pane open. It was heavy. It struck her that these windows were not meant to be opened for a very good reason.

The wind and the sounds of the outside world blew in to meet her. She could see most of Arendelle from here, just like she had for ten years, only this time she could feel the fresh breeze in her hair.

This was completely insane.

"Okay," Elsa breathed again. She was completely on the ledge now. The cat's tail stood rigid. "Um… hang on. I'm going to… oh goodness."

She didn't know where to put her feet. Should she take her slippers off? How much snow could she conjure in sickening freefall? She wished she were more like Anna.

Elsa tried to pry one white-knuckled hand from the sill, extended it as much as she dared. "C-Come here," she said, but her voice was too small and the rest of the world too big. She swallowed. She should have called for someone.

"It's okay… I won't hurt you. I-I know that's hard to believe."

If she fell, would Anna have to learn to drink wine?

With a deep breath, Elsa lowered herself to one knee. The tiles glowed warm and it was all she could do to keep it that way. The cat dragged itself one step back and let out a thin cry. It reminded Elsa of how Anna used to hide behind her when Papa's guests visited.

_Simply pretend._

Slowly, she took her other hand off the window. She gazed into the cat's wary eyes, tried not to look anywhere else, and smiled. "You're okay. I got you."

The cat didn't move. The last trickle of melted snow sloughed over the roof edge. Elsa never heard it hit the courtyard far below. She didn't hear much of anything at all, because the cat took one slow step towards her – and everything after that just… _happened._

It started with a flash of green swooping into the corner of her vision.

" _Found you!"_

"An-"

_MEO-_

"You're a fast muffin! Wait- ow, not the hair-"

" _An_ -"

– _snap._

"… Uh oooaahhh!"

" _Anna_?!"

She was frozen, petrified and awed and rapturous all at the same time – and she shouldn't be able to move but somehow she did-

And then there was a splitting _CRASH_ of wood, terracotta, limbs and fur, and there was a hysterical cat in her arms and Anna was somewhere-

"… Anna?"

Silence.

" _Anna_?"

"... ooh, my funny bone feels _really_ funny."

Her breath left her in a sigh of relief. And in its place, Elsa slowly felt it all settle in.

"Did you just-"

"Swing in on the window cleaner's platform and almost die? Nnn… yes. And ow."

"You could have _fallen_ -"

"I know. Oh God, I know. That was like a crazy trust exercise with… wait. _Elsa?_ "

The cat pushed a trembling nose into her neck and the cold wasn't supposed to bother Elsa, but this time a deep shiver ran through her soul.

_Catch me!_

Suddenly, strawberry blonde hair pooled over her face and blocked out the sky. A silver glint caught the sunlight but her sister's eyes were brighter. "I'm so sorry! I didn't see- can't believe- what are you _doing_ out here?"

Elsa asked herself the same question. What _was_ she doing here? Sprawled on upturned tiles and splintered wood with a cat on her chest. Queens didn't do things like that.

But Anna did.

"I… saw a cat," Elsa said.

Anna's eyes widened. "And you fell out of your window?"

"What? No, no, I didn't."

"But you're out here with me and _I_ fall off things. Did fall off something."

Elsa turned her head away. The thin air and dying adrenaline put a dull, familiar fuzziness in her mind.

_Why must that be such a terrible thing?_

She whispered, "I was trying to catch you."

Anna looked at her strangely. Then she rubbed the back of her neck and let out one of her awkward laughs. "Well, you did."

Elsa sucked in a breath. She closed her eyes.

"You always did."

Her eyes flew open. She stared at Anna's shy smile. "What do you mean?"

Snorting, Anna waved her hand. "Oh, stop trying to be polite. Admit it: I'm a klutz. I was _always_ a klutz. Maybe not so much anymore because I can totally put one foot in front of the other now – but, you know, _before_ that…" She raised her fingers and counted them off. "I fell from trees, out of bed, off the bike, into the pond – and there was that time we-"

"Chased a cat," Elsa breathed. Then she started to laugh.

Because she remembered them now, all the times that had come before the last time. How she would pat that silly girl's head, tug her little nose and grin, _You're okay, Anna. I got you._

Anna's eyes shone. "I told you," she whispered. "Crazy trust exercise."


	8. Best Friend's Name

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"Who, me? Oh, absolutely—what makes you think I'm not?"

"You're hopping."

Busted.

"A-Am I? You're imagining it.” Anna casually let go of the wall. Only to have lightning sprint up her left leg and send her crashing back on her side. She saw Elsa wince. The cat in her arms squirmed.

Anna figured it was entirely the window cleaner's fault. If they hadn't left their hanging platform, well, _hanging around_ , she wouldn't have jumped onto it. Then she wouldn't have crash landed on top of her sister like a suicidal fool and she _definitely_ wouldn't have tripped climbing back through Elsa's window. And Elsa wouldn't have to look at her like– _that_.

Anna flashed a sheepish grin. "Up for a game of tortoise and the hare? You guys go ahead and I'll hop along and meet you at the physician's office. Wait, does that make me the tortoise or the hare?"

"Does it hurt?" Elsa asked softly.

"No! No, of course not. Trust me, I'm _so_ used to this."

"Anna?"

"Yes?"

"Please don't do that."

_Do what?_ she almost asked, but then she saw Elsa's face and her smile slipped for a slight grimace of pain. Maybe she had hit that ledge a little hard.

"It kind of stings," Anna admitted. "But just a teeny tiny bit! Just sort of, like, _ow_ when I use it. I-It's not broken or anything. Though it probably would be if you hadn't caught me – close one, huh?"

Elsa's expression tightened. Staring down at her hands, at the injured black cat, she whispered, "Too close." Then she clenched her fingers and walked away.

Anna stood there, confused, because for a moment she'd somehow thought Elsa would extend her hand or… oh, she didn't know! But then she remembered something their mother had said – about doors that you couldn't see – and for some reason that made her feel a little better. Anna knew a lot about doors.

So she hobbled after Elsa, who hadn't really gone that far ahead. Anna managed to get two steps in the lead and leaned over curiously, but Elsa was looking everywhere but at her.

Instead, the cat saw Anna and started hissing. _Oh boy…_

Anna held up her hands in surrender. "I know, I know! I'm sorry – I miscalculated the angle, okay? Not all ninjas get it right the first go." Under her breath, she added, "Of course, none of this would've happened if you had just _let_ me help you before you ran off like that."

The cat glowered back and Anna grudgingly accepted that she should have listened to Chestnut, just this once. He'd insisted the cat was up to something, climbing up to the stable roof so sneakily, but Anna didn't like to judge. Maybe he was just curious about the baby birds that had just hatched up there, which made perfect sense because Anna had already confirmed the hatchlings were indisputably adorable. Right before Mama Bird kicked her off.

Next thing she knew, all she could hear was high-pitched yowling and the angry beat of feathers and _thump!_ The cat was back on the ground, shocked.

Now Anna knew from experience that it was the short falls that hurt the most _._ An old cat would surely be rattled, no matter how many lives it had left. But before she could get to him, Mama Bird squawked loudly from above and the cat scrambled to his wobbly feet and made a break for it… and Anna had just known she couldn't leave him out there.

Except his last scare with heights hadn't discouraged him from scampering up more of them – Anna couldn't remember ever climbing so many stairs. Then she saw the platform hanging out the open window and she played on those all the time, only she forgot about the _landing_ part and now – well, now they were here. With Elsa.

_With Elsa._

"I'm glad I crashed."

"I beg your pardon?"

Anna clapped her hands over her mouth, forgetting all about balance and barely catching herself in time. "Nothing! Just talking to myself as usual."

Elsa looked dubious, but the cat pushed his flat head into her neck and she got distracted. Anna could have kissed the dishevelled thing. Only he was glaring at her.

Making a face, Anna bent over. "Hey, I said I was sorry! Don't you get all possessive now. That's _my_ sister"—dropping into a conspiratorial whisper— "and I think she's got a thing about dirt so you ought to get your paws off before she-"

Elsa made a strange sound.

When they were kids Anna would always be the first to throw herself at any creature, big or small, while Elsa kept to quick pats and admiring from a distance. Yet at the end of the day, Anna was always the one with the scratches on her arms and the animals would be all over Elsa, fighting for her attention.

Maybe there were some things time and closed doors couldn't change.

"… laughs," Anna finished breathlessly.

Elsa's hand fell away from her smile. And she looked at Anna – just looked at her – and her eyes softened and she mouthed, "Dirt?"

For a long moment, Anna just kept grinning without a clue, waiting. Then she realised that was it. Laughter and one unspoken word.

Conversation the way they used to do it.

"Oh, come on! You totally do."

"I do not."

"Do too!"

"There is a difference between being _organised_ and being…" Elsa's lips twitched. "… you."

Anna's mouth popped open with a disbelieving laugh. _Oh, she did_ not _just-_ "You still make your own bed, don't you?" she accused.

Elsa looked taken aback. Then the smallest glimmer of that old mischief sneaked into her eyes, and Anna's face hurt from grinning.

"I'm assuming _you_ still wear your blanket to breakfast."

"Hah! Yours, actually. See, you never said you wanted it back." The ache in her ankle seemed so far away now, and the distance left to the physician's office too short. Anna continued triumphantly, "I bet you arrange your dolls by name."

"I- Anna! I'm almost nineteen."

"You _are_?!" Anna coughed and tucked a curl behind her ear. "I mean– of course. Not as in of-course-you're-getting-old or anything. Just that, you know, you're so tall and so much beautifuller – _beautiful_ – that of course it makes sense. That you're old…er." She scratched her nose sheepishly. "You _are_ my big sister."

Elsa froze. The cat pawed at her idle hand; gloved in velvet, always. Anna caught herself staring at them, and so did Elsa. Anna hesitated. She opened her mouth to ask-

_BANG!_

Down the hall, the door to Anna's doom flew open. "I knew it!" a squeaky voice puffed.

Anna swallowed. Behind her, Elsa stood rooted, her eyes wide as they flitted between the open doorway and the tiny figure that had burst from it.

"Princess _Anna_ ," the royal physician rumbled as he stalked down the hall on stubby legs. "Just as I expected – always expected. After all, who else could be so _unfortunate_ to visit an old dwarf for the third – third! – time this week?"

Was it just her or did being twice his height make no difference at all? Anna flashed a guilty grin. "Hi, Smolt.”

His beady eyes swooped over her, zoning into her fidgety gaze. "Dare I ask what it was you tripped over this time?"

"Nothing! But this kitty on the other hand-"

Smolt raised a hand, along with his long nose. "Please do not try to hide injuries that are at my eye level, ma’am."

"A-Anyway! So the cat took a bad fall-"

Smolt sighed, and Anna knew it was coming. "This is becoming a troubling matter, Princess Anna."

She closed her mouth.

"We always knew you were a most… sprightly child. It was quite endearing, if I might add. But you must understand. Even if I hide your bruises and treat your scrapes, Arendelle will not see you as a child for much longer."

If Chestnut were here he would say, _I told you so._

"You are a princess… my lady."

Anna tried to smile.

And a steady voice came from behind her: "She certainly is. But it is to me the people will look."

Smolt jumped. Anna couldn't blame him. All of a sudden her heart had sprung from her chest to her ears, and she wanted to spin around and cry _Mama_ , because it was _her_ _voice_ … but she didn't. Didn't, because she had slept by that big door and even if she hadn't believed it then, she couldn't run away from it when her sister found her and whispered _They won't be coming back._

"Princess Elsa," she heard Smolt breathe. Watched him bow so deeply his brow reflected on the polished floor. "Your Highness."

Anna turned her head as Elsa brushed past. Her back was straight, shoulders strong. Even the cat didn't make a sound. Anna looked into her sister's face. It was Elsa, and it wasn't Elsa.

_Poise._

"We apologise for bothering you," she began, but Smolt intercepted hastily.

"Please, the regrets are all mine – I did not see you there, my lady. I have an, ah, limited line of vision. It is an– honour, truly, to receive you after so long."

Anna thought she saw her sister hesitate – but no. Elsa inclined her head, smiling, yet somehow it wasn't the same smile she had given Anna only moments ago. "We were hoping you could help us. Anna and I found this cat stranded on the roof, limping."

Smolt tried to see, but he hardly reached Elsa's elbow. He flushed when she seemed to realise the same and knelt down for him. The cat shied away from his touch, clinging to Elsa. "I understand," Smolt said. "But Princess Anna's leg-"

"Can wait," Anna cut in quickly. "Really. I promise I'll stay put this time, listen to everything you say."

"We both know that would not hold past lunchtime, Princess." Smolt rolled his eyes; a gesture he had used to amuse Anna when she was younger, sitting in his small chair with skinned knees. She remembered a time she used to like Smolt's office.

Finally, he shook his head. "At least allow me to fetch you an icepack."

Elsa had trouble handing the cat over to Smolt because the feline refused to part with her. "Please be careful with him," she murmured, and it wasn't the queen's voice anymore. Just Elsa.

Smolt bowed once more and disappeared into his office. Anna whirled around happily, but stopped short when she saw Elsa's closed eyes and clenched jaw. The regal composure was fading. She let out a long, shaky breath.

"Elsa? Are you okay?"

Anna heard the tinkle of breaking glass in the distance.

Elsa's eyes flew open and caught on Anna's surprised ones. There was no way Anna could mistake that look. She'd grown up seeing it at the dinner table, during fleeting moments in the hallways, and just before the white door closed.

Walls.

Her sister stared at her. Anna smiled hopelessly.

Elsa drew her arms close. Her breaths rose in mist even though the sunlight streaming in was warm on Anna's skin. "I… I have to go." Elsa turned around – leaving – and Anna wanted so badly to know _why_ … but then she looked into her sister's fear, and she realised she didn't really want to know at all.

"Okay," she said.

Elsa closed her eyes. "I'm sorry, Anna."

Anna shook her head and smiled, because she was thinking of dirt and blankets. Today, she told herself. That was all she was allowed to have for one day. It was enough.

But even as she watched Elsa walk away, she heard herself calling, "Can I just ask you something– crazy?"

Elsa stopped, a small figure in a long corridor. She looked over her shoulder and it _was_ crazy, but Anna hadn’t thought she would. Stop for her. Listen.

"Doesn't it get lonely in your room?"

Elsa didn't move. Anna could hear herself breathe. Could hear Elsa breathe.

"No."

Anna sucked in a breath. "But-"

Elsa held a finger to her lips, and smiled. "It's not my real room."

_Our little secret._

Anna stood still as Elsa walked away from her, and she realised she could get used to this.

She shouted, "I'm still keeping your blanket!"

Elsa's skirt fluttered around the corner. It would probably take years for Anna to recognise her laugh without a door muffling it.

Probably.

Not really.


	9. People Don't Really Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before finding out their birthdays, my headcanon was that Elsa and Anna's birthdays were both in winter, five days apart and celebrated by a week-long festival. Hope that gives enough context. Also, the amazing laikaken drew fanart for this chapter—please check it out in the end notes and give it some love!

Elsa looked up in time to see the last leaf fall from the tree outside her window. She put down her pen, glanced at the date she had written at the top of the letter and felt a cold wind stir in her stomach. This time of year always came too quickly.

A knock at the door. Three orderly raps instead of the upbeat rhythm that usually echoed in her heart. Elsa blinked. "Kai?"

"Your Highness, I have your morning meal."

Elsa turned back to the window and her gaze landed on the tallest watchtower, barely visible behind the north wing. It was a frozen tempest in winter, and eventually her father had reformed the guard's patrols to spare them from the watchtower on the worst nights. But not all the tower's visitors were guards. Some were curious children trapped behind closed gates.

"I'm coming."

Outside, Kai waited patiently with a tray, neat and proper. When Anna delivered meals, she always tried to strike a pose as Elsa opened the door, more often than not sending the drinks flying.

Kai bowed. "Shall I bring it inside for you, my lady?" He and Gerda always asked, no matter how many times she refused them, and Elsa always did. Always.

She wondered if Anna had appetite for breakfast.

To his credit, Kai only smiled when Elsa nodded and held the door open. She clenched and unclenched her gloved fingers as he set the tray down on her desk. Eventually, she found her voice. "How is Anna?"

"Bedridden, I'm afraid," Kai answered, "although Master Smolt assures me her fever will pass. He was rather upset to find the princess back in his clinic so soon."

A smile flickered across Elsa's lips. "Was she looking for them again?" And Kai must have known she meant _the decorations_ , because he nodded meaningfully. "Are they beautiful this year?" Elsa asked quietly.

"Always, Your Highness. Gerda went down to the village recently. She tells me the citizens are organising a marching band."

 _Music._ There had always been music when they went with Father and Mother. "Spread word that those under royal service are free to participate if they wish. I'm aware they’ve not had much chance to perform in court recently."

"Of course, Your Highness." Kai began to tidy the papers Elsa had been working on, which only gave away his hesitation because he had never doubted that Elsa could manage her room on her own, even as a child. "May I inquire; how are the– other preparations faring?"

And suddenly Elsa's fear for this season grew, because she could no longer stand behind her father and let him speak for her. She managed to keep her voice steady. "You're holding them."

Kai looked at the letters. She could almost hear him thinking, wondering, if they were the reason for the shadows under her eyes. "I know I have already suggested this last week," Kai began, "but the governors would gladly have taken this burden off your hands."

"It isn't a burden. This is my responsibility."

Kai looked at her sadly. It struck Elsa that he and the staff were getting older; that she was, too. "With all due respect, Princess Elsa," Kai said softly, "your coronation is still a while away. There is no need for you to take on a queen's duties so early."

She closed her eyes, kept her hands – gloves – clasped in front of her. "It's just for this one time. One day," she added, as if that changed anything. Kai bowed his head and said nothing. Elsa took in a breath, exhaled, and felt the tension in her neck ease, just a little. "Kai?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Has it already been a year?"

His sad eyes flickered to the king's portrait on her wall. "Almost, ma'am."

She nodded. She gave him a small smile. "Thank you, Kai."

He smiled back. "The festival looks lovely this year, Your Highness." There was a hint of suggestion in his voice. Elsa caught it, and shook her head. His smile did not falter.

As Kai began to leave the room, Elsa spoke up. "Do you know, Kai? What she wants this year?"

He paused at the door and seemed to consider this. Then he chuckled. "I believe you are asking the wrong person, Princess Elsa."

* * *

Two. That was Elsa's solution by nightfall. Over the next week, at least half a dozen ships would dock at Arendelle's shores, and among them were two particular dignitaries that she needed to watch carefully. Father had said so last year.

But this year was different. This year, Elsa was all that stood between Arendelle's politics, and Anna.

It was just one day.

Her head fell back against the straight back of her chair, a soft sigh escaping. Her stomach was empty, her dinner sitting cold at the edge of her desk. It had been left outside her door with a quick knock – which was not like Kai, but Elsa hadn't had the mind to pay it any attention. Now, as she pulled the tray towards her and saw the gold-foiled bunny tucked beneath the napkin, she understood why.

No, not like Kai at all.

She would have made a strange sight, walking down the icy corridors without a coat. Elsa knew she should take one, just in case someone saw her and wondered—but there was a dull throb in her temple and she simply did not want to think about anything. She only wanted to check, that was all.

She stopped in front of her old bedroom door.

Elsa leaned in to listen, her hand on the doorknob. The silence reminded her of the night Anna had slept outside their parents' room. She thought of the watchtower, cold and dark. Then she heard something – a scratchy sound not unlike congested plumbing, and she rested her brow against the wood. For a while, she simply stood there, listening.

Because she'd done the same thing, this time last year, until her mother had exited with an empty soup bowl and found her there. _Your sister makes a terrible patient_ , she'd said. Elsa had started to smile, but then her mother asked, _Would you like to see the festival this year, Elsa?_ And her gloves had almost not been enough.

_I can't, Mother._

_That was not the question, sweetheart._

_Mother… please._

The queen had shaken her head, but she had never given up quite as easily as her husband. _What starts with Anna and ends with Elsa?_ she'd sung softly, the way she used to before the gates closed on her daughters' own festival.

And Elsa had stayed silent, even though she knew the answer deep in her heart, always. She should have said something, anything. But that was the last time she’d talked with her mother alone, before she boarded the ship… and then it was too late to say anything at all.

Tonight, Elsa had to open the door on her own.

She turned the handle.

The moon greeted her through the window, hovering in the frame as if it had been waiting for her. Immediately, Elsa's eyes fell on the bed; not because she had been searching for it, but because Anna had moved it into Elsa's former spot, where the sky's light could always reach. The silhouette of half a dozen blankets piled on top.

Elsa drew her hands to her chest and looked around. The desk, the bookshelf, the battered chest of old toys… She touched the wall next to her, and smiled in the darkness.

Anna hadn't changed anything.

Then Elsa's eyes fell on the floor.

Anna snorted in her sleep.

Elsa gingerly stepped over a tangle of dresses in her path, then another… and another. Finally, she sighed. She turned around and picked them all up. As she draped everything over the armchair, Elsa's gaze lingered on the dolls lining Anna's desk. Their stitched smiles beamed up at her, and she realised with a strange feeling in her chest that she recognised most of them. She straightened them gently.

A fitful scuffling came from the bed. Slowly, Elsa moved closer. Anna was barely visible beneath the blankets, her wild hair a dark mess under the moonlight. Elsa knelt down and peered at her sister's sleeping face. Anna still drooled, still slept in awkward positions. She still looked like the child Elsa knew.

But the silver strand glistened like frost – and Elsa remembered a flash of ice in her fingers, that day outside the physician's door. She drew back—

—and bumped into the bedside table. A book clattered to the floor.

Elsa held her breath.

Anna slept on.

Moving slowly, Elsa picked up the book. It had fallen open at the middle, a pen clipped in the pages; a combination she did not expect to find at Anna's bedside. Curious, she brought it to the light. And smiled.

She moved to the window ledge. It was exactly the same as the one in her room, but for some reason this felt smaller, as if the space could not recognise her longer legs. Elsa pulled them to her chest, propped the book against her knees, and picked up the pen. Then she paused, because she thought she'd caught a glimpse of the auroras through the dark clouds – and Elsa wondered.

She wondered about the festival. She wondered when Anna's geometry homework was due. She wondered if her parents were somewhere in the lights, watching. And she wondered how long she could stay in this moment, right here.

* * *

"Psst, Elsa!"

She was dreaming of snow in the great hall – but not of that night. Of every other night that her sister had climbed into her bed and asked that one, special question. She dreamed of Olaf.

"Wake up, wake up, wake _up_!"

Elsa opened her eyes with a gasp, and the snow snapped straight to her fingertips. A familiar blanket slid off her shoulders. " _Anna_ -"

"Shh! It's coming!"

She _knew_ that – the ice was on her skin, slithering up the wall at her back – she couldn't hold it back. "Anna, please, you have to-"

The sky burst alight.

Anna squealed.

Fractals of colour danced in Elsa's eyes.

"One!" Anna laughed. "Two!" As a second blazing trail streaked into the dark sky, blooming bright green. "Three!"

And they kept coming, one after another, until the night was blanketed with smoke and her sister's laughter. One last firework flew higher than the others, hanging suspended for a fraction of a second-

"Sixteen," Elsa whispered, as a distant cheer rang from the village. Midnight. Five days later, there would be nineteen.

Anna squeezed her hand. Elsa looked over and watched the fading fireworks flash in her sister's bright eyes. Anna grinned back.

 _Guess what?_ she mouthed. _The sky's awake._

And so it was.

"I'm sorry," Elsa murmured.

The lights wavered in Anna's bemused gaze. "For what?"

_That you get sick every year, trying to see your own birthday celebrations._

Looking at her weirdly, Anna suddenly leaned over. "Is that my _homework_?" She flipped through the pages and made a face. "Did I really get every question wrong?"

Elsa ran a hand over the folds of the blanket – her blanket. "Not every one… only the majority."

"Right… oh no, hang on-" Anna's face scrunched up. " _Achoo!_ " She felt around for the tissue box. Elsa gently pushed it into her hand. "Ub, danks. Ugh. Watchtower in winter? Bad idea. Wait, I think I said that last year."

The ice was at her back again.

Anna blew her nose loudly. "But you know, it's totally worth it, getting sick and all, because you can see _everything_ up there – I think they're having a _marching band_ this year. How cool is that? They haven't had one since the last time we… went." She grimaced.

That had been ten – eleven – years ago.

Elsa rested her head on her knees.

After a long while, Anna said, "Hey, Elsa?"

She turned her head slightly. Anna was sitting with her back against the ledge, too close, too warm. But Elsa was too tired to feel the ice anymore.

"Happy birthday."

For the first time in forever, she wasn’t hearing it through a keyhole. Behind her eyelids, Elsa pictured a warm table and the king and queen's smiles as their daughters sang birthday wishes to each other, every day, until the final fireworks on the fifth day; always three more in the sky than there had been on the first.

The winter festival used to be theirs. It still was.

Elsa's fingers lightly brushed the top of Anna's head, as if everything were dust. Their weight settled for a short moment. "Happy birthday to you, too, Anna."

And it only lasted seconds, but it must have been enough for Anna, because she made to nestle her head against Elsa's side. Then she hesitated. "Can I?" she asked.

Elsa remembered a time when her sister was so much smaller and only asked questions that had no answers. That time was supposed to be an eternity away… but in this room, all it took was one word: "Okay."

Anna curled up, hugging the geometry book. Elsa draped the blanket over her.

Anna yawned. "I miss Mama's chicken soup."

Elsa closed her eyes and felt her body relax. "Do you ever wish, Anna?" she asked softly.

"Hmm?"

"That you were a normal girl."

She felt Anna's head shift. "Do _you_?"

"I can't."

"That wasn't really the question."

Elsa smiled faintly. No. No, it wasn't.

"Elsa?"

_What starts with Anna and ends with Elsa?_

"It's alright, Anna. Go to sleep."

Outside, the northern lights shimmered.

_Everything._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter fanart by laikaken: https://laikaken.tumblr.com/post/113081476450/hey-elsa-chapter-9-the-sky-is-awake-by
> 
> I also have a tumblr at themarshmallowattack.tumblr.com. Forever blogging wholesome Snow Sisters content.


	10. A Chance to Change My Lonely World

Anna couldn't stop bouncing. "When's it gonna open, Papa? When, when?"

"When you act like a real princess," her father replied in that serious voice Anna didn't like, but she got it, she really did, because today they were opening the gates earlier than usual and there would be people waiting outside. Today was special.

Today she was four years old.

So Anna did her best to hold still as her mother fixed the ribbons in her hair. Mama was humming her special song under her breath. Mama liked the crowds. "Everything!" Anna said eagerly. "Everything, Mama!"

Her mother smiled. "I haven't even started singing, sweetheart. Now please try not to ruin your hair again; the gates are about to open. Look at Elsa."

Anna made a face. Why did everyone keep saying that? It was like they didn't know Elsa also tripped on her dresses and snorted milk up her nose. But then Elsa gave her one of her apologetic shrugs and Anna just grinned because it was so much more fun when the adults didn't know. She skipped over and crashed into her sister's side, making Elsa giggle and glance at their parents' expressions.

She patted down the collar of Anna's oversized coat as the guards marched up to the gate. "Wanna get chocolate apples?" she whispered.

Anna's face lit up.

Papa held out his arm for Mama, and together they looked down at their daughters. "We're going to lose them again this year," Papa sighed.

The queen patted his arm comfortingly. "It's their kingdom. They will be fine. But if it will assure our paranoid king…" She smiled down at her children. "What do you need to remember today, Elsa?"

Anna held out her hand with a wide smile. Elsa's fingers slipped around her mittens and Anna swung their arms happily.

"Hold onto Anna," Elsa answered dutifully.

A frosty breeze hurried through the opening gates.

"And you, Anna?" Mama asked.

She could smell chocolate. Hear music. People. "Elsa," Anna said, because suddenly she couldn't find the rest of her words. There was a big, big world out there and four years old seemed very small now.

Their parents straightened and put on their royal smiles. So did Elsa, but first she pulled Anna just a little behind her and whispered, "It's okay. Just pretend they're snowmen."

Light started to flood through.

Anna looked up. "Can we make one? A snowman?"

"It doesn't snow this early in winter, girls," their father murmured. Papa heard everything.

Elsa squeezed her hand and winked.

With the blast of a trumpet, the gates swung open.

* * *

She could hear her own snoring. And someone knocking on the door. "Princess Anna? Are you awake?"

Groaning, she rolled over… and floundered instinctively until she realised she hadn't fallen off the bed. For once. What was she doing already lying on the floor?

"Princess Anna?"

She had a feeling she was forgetting something. She yawned. "Yeah?"

"So sorry for waking you, ma'am-"

"No, no, no, no, you didn't. I've been up for _hours_ …" She pulled hair from her mouth, wiped her drool, and felt herself succumbing to that sweet, warm cocoon.

"It's time to get ready, Your Highness."

Her head slipped, jerking her back awake. "Right, of course… ready for what, sorry?"

"The winter festival, my lady. It begins today."

Oh, she knew that already. Of course she knew that. She'd watched the fireworks, all sixteen of them and-

Anna jumped up, wide awake. "It's my birthday!" she gasped. Tripping over blankets, she rushed to the mirror and pulled at her cheeks, her hair, checking her smile and eyes; looking for a sign, a sliver of maturity – _something_ – to show that she was a year older.

Kai cleared his throat. "Please hurry and change, Princess. I strongly advise dressing warmly. It seems windy outside."

Anna smoothed down that curious lock of white hair. "I wasn't thinking of going outside… oh, but I _could_. Chestnut wouldn’t throw me on my birthday, would he?"

The window stood broad and bright behind her reflection. Anna looked over her shoulder, cocking her head as she studied a spot by the ledge, where her geometry book lay neatly in the sunlight. She loved sitting there but she had no recollection of doing her homework. She had a legitimate reason to skip her lessons this time; she was sick!

She picked up the book, flipped it open, and a pen fell out. Her pen… but it wasn't her handwriting that filled the pages.

_Do you ever wish, Anna?_

Anna whirled, spinning in a circle. The room was empty.

Through the door, Kai was saying, "But Princess Anna, the gates will open short-"

"I'm sorry, Kai, I just– have you seen–"

Then she heard – really heard – what he had said.

The door flew open so quickly Kai was almost bowled over. He began to bow. "Good morn-"

"Kai," Anna cut in breathlessly. "Kai. What did you just say?"

"Why, good morn-"

"No, no, no! Before that. About the gates-" She'd forgotten how to say the word.

Kai looked at her for a long moment. Anna didn't know if she was breathing. Then he smiled at her, and it was so strange because it was the kind of smile he used to give her when the king and queen were too busy to see her crayon drawings.

"Princess Elsa has asked that the gates be opened today."

Open.

_It's alright, Anna._

Distantly, Anna heard herself ask, "Forever?"

Kai shook his head. "For you."

* * *

" _Chocolate apples!"_

" _Slow down! We just had breakfast and-"_

" _But Elsaaaa, it's_ chocolate _!"_

"… _Alright, you got me. But we have to keep it a secret from Mama and Papa, okay?"_

" _Mmhmm mm hmm!"_

" _Hey, leave some for me! It's all over your face now. Hold still, silly."_

" _Mmph… Elsa? After this, can we get some-"_

" _Marshmallows?"_

" _That's what I was going to say! Jinx!"_

" _Jinx again!"_

* * *

"Elsa! Elsa, Elsa!"

She had to grab the doorframe before she flew past. Knocked impatiently. No answer – but the thoughts in her head were too loud for her to hear the silence. "Kai said–" She caught her breath. "Kai said _you_ said– about the gates– oh, Elsa, this is just– this is going to be so _nice_!"

She felt like hugging the white door – no, kicking it open. Because her chest swelled so warm and large she wanted to laugh and sing and cry at the same time, and she just wished Elsa would open the door so they could pick dresses together and– _go outside._

_Outside._

"Do you think there will be chocolate? Oh, oh! They'll have chocolate apples, right? I don't know where we'd start! Well, of course we'll have to _meet_ everyone – you know, princesses of the land and all. And then– what if…? What if one of us meets _the one_?"

She gasped at her own genius. He'd be a prince, naturally, and he'd come striding in on his white horse – maybe even, oh, rescue her from– anything! Everything about him would be dreamy, perfect; bonus points if he liked chocolate and sandwiches and sliding around in socks. But it'd be okay even if he wasn't anything like that, as long as he never tried to shut her out.

Anna blinked.

"Elsa?" A familiar hesitation lingered in her voice. "Are you in there?"

Papa used to say she needed to fix that bad habit – asking questions she already knew the answers to. Apparently princesses shouldn't ask; they should just know.

And sometimes, Anna did. Know, that was.

 _Open gates_ , she reminded herself, feeling light with two simple words.

But there was just… something about the way Kai had smiled softly, sadly, that made Anna nervous. Even though she knew, somehow, that Elsa's room was empty and her sister was avoiding her and that it was still a hundred times better than being ignored – Anna still didn't like it.

_For you._

She never did end up asking Elsa, did she? About her door and hiding and all these years.

Anna found the doorknob with her fingers. "It's okay now… right?" she asked the white door.

It stood stalwart and quiet. Truce with an old foe. It was in one of Papa's tactics books somewhere.

"I'm really going to do it. Like, on-the-count-of-three really."

She stretched her fingers, placed them back in position carefully.

"Okay? Okay. One!"

Maybe she should knock one more time.

"Twoooo."

Just in case Elsa really was in there.

"Two and a half…"

_What am I doing?_

"Princess Anna?"

She jumped back.

Anna stared wide-eyed at Kai, materialised out of nowhere like he always did when something was about to go very wrong in front of her parents. One of her winter coats was draped over his arm.

Anna laughed nervously, tucking a curl behind her ear. "W-Wow, Kai, you really walk like you have no legs! I mean, not _no_ legs, just no _sound_ which is actually pretty creepy when you think about it. Not that I'm really thinking at all so I'm just going to, um, go-"

Smiling, Kai dipped his head. "My lady, if I may interrupt-"

"What? Oh no, you're not inter-"

"Princess Elsa does not lock her door."

She closed her mouth with a click, blinking. After a moment, Kai gave a small bow for no reason and Anna wondered how long he and Gerda had known. Did _they_ knock on Elsa's door? Would it change anything if she had found out earlier?

Kai stepped forward to place the coat around her shoulders. Anna exhaled and pulled it tighter, not realising how chilled the fever had left her. It was always a little too cold inside the palace. Naturally it would be warm at the festival, because there would be so many people and, well, _everything._ Unless it snowed – then it would be the best birthday ever.

Anna turned to Kai with a small grin. "Can you believe it? I'm sixteen today. And Elsa-"

Elsa would be nineteen in five days. _Only_ nineteen – even though she seemed so far away from riding bikes and talking to portraits… even though she could already use Mama's queenly voice like it was hers from the beginning. And suddenly Anna realised that she had always been three steps behind, following footprints left for her in the snow.

Always.

She reached out and clutched Kai's arm. The words tussled and fought on her tongue. "Kai – when do we – princesses – have to stop being children?"

She couldn't remember ever seeing such a startled expression on Kai's face – but she saw it now. Then it melted into sympathy and Anna huffed because _bad habits._ "Please, Princess," Kai told her gently. "Your sister wanted you to enjoy the festival."

"I will," she replied. "After I get Elsa to come as well."

"Princess Elsa is busy with-"

"It's her birthday, too."

Kai closed his mouth. And Anna meant to apologise because it wasn't supposed to have burst out like that –stubborn and unladylike and childish. Papa would frown if he heard her, which Anna liked to think he and Mama were always doing.

But then Kai smiled. And he said, "This morning, Princess Elsa asked two things of me. First, I was to make sure that you were dressed warmly for the weather."

Eyes widening, Anna curled her fingers into the woollen sleeve of her coat and thought of a blanket that smelled of powdered snow and childhood. _Check._

"And the second?" she whispered.

Kai gestured for her to come closer.

* * *

" _Look at all those ships – they're so big! Look at that one!"_

" _That's Corona's flag. And that one over there is Weaseltown. Papa says we do a lot of business with them. I forgot what we trade. I think-"_

" _Elsa. Too smart."_

" _Oh. Sorry."_

" _That's okay, queens have to be smart. Like Mama!"_

" _I-I guess… You're going to fall into the water if you skip like that."_

" _I'll be okay. Elsa can swim."_

" _Elsa doesn't want to get her dress wet."_

" _I don't want you to be queen, Elsa. It's too boring."_

" _It's important."_

" _But you won't be able to ride our bike or build a snowman with me anymore."_

" _What? I can still do that!"_

" _Really?"_

"… _I think."_

" _Elsa!"_

" _Okay, okay, I promise!"_

* * *

Their father used to tell them to stay away from the gallery, because apparently there were less priceless artefacts they could accidentally spill hot cocoa on. Even so, he hadn't chased Anna out when he had found her in there, six years old and talking to Joan of Arc. Instead, he'd picked her up and explained each painting to her; the boring history and weird artist names and brush techniques. When Anna told him she thought Elsa might be more interested, Papa had given Saint Olaf's likeness a pensive grown-up look and hadn’t spoken for a while.

Just before Anna had fallen asleep against his shoulder, she’d told her father about seeing his coronation portrait in the library, and that he looked handsomer in real life. Papa had chuckled and told her it was because they hadn't let him smile, but one day she would find the same portrait in a special room somewhere, and he would be smiling in that one because of the crooked angle it had been hung. Ten years later, Anna still hadn't found it – but some part of home still smelt like musky oil paintings.

"Hi Elsa, meet Joan – Joan, meet Elsa. I guess shaking hands is kinda hard but, um… urgh!"

Anna groaned as she hurried down the hallway. This was not how she'd wanted them to meet – she wasn't sure she wanted them to meet at all. Joan knew too many of her secrets and Elsa… Elsa…

 _Please keep Anna away from the portrait room_ , Kai had murmured in her ear.

What in the world was she doing?

The familiar arched doors came into view – closed tightly shut. Anna skidded to a halt in front of them. Caught her breath – had she really run through half the palace? Why were these shoes so uncomfortable? What if the festival had already started? No, she'd hear it from here, surely. There was still time to drag Elsa to the gates and– wait, why was she standing here staring at the doors?

Anna raised a fist to knock. Then she realised that these doors weren't white; they were a dark mahogany and she had always thrown them wide open like curtains. Feeling silly, she pressed her hands against the wood. _Oh, I'm ready for this – I was_ born _ready–_

She heard Elsa's laugh on the other side. Oh God, what was Joan telling her? Anna pushed on the doors–

– just as a voice floated through the crack, "I assure you, Princess, that was exactly what happened!"

Anna froze. She forgot to blink or breathe or think.

Elsa was in the gallery with a boy – a _man._

"You jest, Fredrik," another voice said, and Anna almost fell over. "How could one possibly _sing_ to ze bull and expect it to stop seeing red?"

"It's just a painting, gentlemen. Perhaps we could move on to Joan of Arc…"

Holding her breath, Anna eased open the door a little more. She looked into the gallery.

Elsa was in a regal blue dress, her hair coiled back in a bun – and she was smiling. There were three men in the room with her.

They were all wearing gloves.

Anna felt like she'd been hit by a horse. She tried to think of open gates and chocolate apples – but there was no way past the shock.

"Joan of Arc," one of the men was saying. His hair was cropped short and auburn, and Anna was willing to bet her breakfast that his eyes were dreamy. He turned to Elsa. "A powerful woman. Just like Your Highness."

Elsa clasped her hands together. "I couldn't compare, Prince Gregory."

 _Prince_! She knew it!

"I can hardly ride a horse on my own," Elsa admitted.

"I could zertainly teach you," the shortest man – another prince; must be – offered, but was quickly cut off by the first voice.

"That reminds me! My stable received a fine young mare last spring. Beautiful creature – so befitting of you, Princess Elsa. I would be happy to-"

"Please, Prince Fredrik," Elsa said hurriedly, which was strange because Elsa never interrupted anyone. "Your presence – all of your presences – is more than enough for my birthday. You've already brought enough gifts to keep our stewards busy till teatime."

The princes laughed; a rich blend of baritones that Anna used to hear at her father's guest dinners. She hadn't heard that sound in a very long time.

_Princess Elsa has asked that the gates be opened today_

Her fingers clenched tight on the brass handle.

"I still believe we should personally present Princess Anna with our gifts," Prince Gregory said. He was the tallest of them, with broad shoulders and badges shimmering across his chest. He reminded Anna of a leopard – she didn't know why. She'd only seen them in books. Elsa used to read all sorts of books to her, lying on their stomachs in this very room.

_Keep Anna away from the portrait room._

Elsa smiled. "I'm afraid my sister is still recovering from the flu. I'm sure she would love to meet you. Anna is very fond of people."

"Then she might remember me!" Fredrik looked pleased. "I visited Arendelle with my uncle five years ago and went riding with Princess Anna. We enjoyed each other's company immensely."

Anna's jaw dropped.

Oh God. _Fredrik_. The one who had been a head shorter than her and wouldn't stop talking in third person – the one whose hat Chestnut had chewed off, baring a bald spot that sent him into tears for the rest of his visit.

 _That_ Prince Fredrik.

"I don't recall meeting you during my stay, Princess Elsa. I was sorely disappointed. Your sister told me so much about you."

He didn't remember, did he? That Anna had taken Fredrik to Elsa's door, confident that a _boy_ would be able to lure her sister out. But all they got was the usual silence, and Fredrik had taken it so personally he'd said things about Elsa that would have ended with Anna getting her own revenge if Chestnut hadn’t beaten her to it.

They had been kids. And now he was a man. In the portrait room. Looking for her.

A sudden blast of cymbals and trumpets blared through the windows.

Anna almost fell through the door. No matter how eagerly she waited for it, the festival music always startled her. She'd usually start laughing after the shock, because even if Elsa pretended not to hear her knocking, there was no way she could miss the sound of the winter festival – their festival – starting.

Elsa turned her head to the windows. Anna heard their mother's special song from far, far away. _What starts with Anna and ends with Elsa?_ And Papa would pat their heads and answer, _Trouble._

"Happy birthday," Anna whispered. The music drowned her out. She wondered if the gates would open without her. Elsa probably wouldn't want to go, not with all– this. Anna realised she could charge in right now and, maybe, her life would change.

She started to let the door fall shut.

Then she heard Elsa start. "Fr– Prince Fredrik, what are you-"

Anna fumbled for the handle.

"It's your birthday, Your Highness! As your closest partner in trade, it is only fitting that I offer you your first dance of the day."

"I… I'm honoured – really – but I-"

Fredrik had taken Elsa's hand in his. _Dirt,_ Anna thought for no reason. She watched her sister's face and saw the walls in her expression. But it wasn't like that day outside Smolt's office; the walls weren't coming _up_ – Anna only just saw that they had been there the entire time.

Elsa looked terrified.

Prince Gregory crossed his arms and the third prince shook his head, his long curly hair disapproving. "No, no, no, Fredrik. Prinzess Elsa's first dance should surely be with someone who knows not to step on her feet."

"What are you talking about, Lucio? I was personally taught by my uncle, Weselton's esteemed Monkey with the Face of a Peacock!"

"G-Gentlemen, please-"

"It really does get chilly here in Arendelle. Here, Princess, take my jacket."

"I– thank you. But I really don't-"

"Come on, how can you not dance on such a special occasion? At least one-"

" _Dos_! Ze princess must partner with I."

"You're half a head shorter than her, Lucio!"

The door banged open. It took Anna a moment to realise it had come from her.

The princes spun around. Fredrik let go of Elsa's hand. Gregory unfolded his arms.

Elsa's wide blue eyes found hers across the room.

Then the strangest thing happened. Anna found herself thinking of the long dinners Papa was always locked up in at this time of year. No matter how much Anna complained, she was never allowed to see the guests, even though they always brought her and Elsa so many expensive presents. Every year, Anna would try to sneak in. Every year, her mother would prise Anna's hands off her dress, touch their foreheads together and sigh, _Maybe one day when you're older._

And when Anna saw her sister standing frozen in the midst of all these good-looking but so very pushy princes, she realised that they weren't really here to celebrate their birthday at all.

"… Hi," Anna blurted.

Lucio raised an eyebrow. "Prinzess Elsa? Who might this beautiful maiden be?"

Without looking away, Elsa just shook her head. Anna figured it was meant for her, to warn her, push her away, shut the door. And it would probably be easier to listen, because _Your sister wanted you to enjoy the festival._

But it was their birthday. And Elsa kept promising that Anna would be alright, but she never gave Anna the chance to promise her big sister the same thing.

Anna took a step into the gallery. The air was blissfully cold against her burning ears.

She forced her tongue to untangle itself. "M-My sister doesn't dance."

Elsa closed her eyes and let out a long breath.

Anna looked at the princes. _Today, Mama_ , she thought. _I'm older today._ Because even princesses had to grow up, and they couldn’t be protected forever, no matter how hard everyone around them tried.

Elsa was looking at her. She tried a small, grateful smile. Anna grinned back.

"… But I do."


	11. Stronger Than One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to thank you again for reading! This was one of my favourite chapters of the fic. Hope you'll like it too!

Elsa was being a good girl. Papa said so; that there were going to be a lot of people looking to her as the heir and she needed to _be careful_ – which Elsa knew really meant _no snowmen_. She was disappointed because she and Anna were finally allowed to play outside the palace grounds, and she wanted to show her sister how to make snow angels. But today was a special day.

Today Anna was five years old.

"Look, Elsa, look!"

But Elsa was looking out at the fjord. She wondered what it was like high up on the mountains right now, winter white everywhere.

Anna bumped her shoulder. "Elsaaaa!"

"Sorry. What did you… oh." Her sister had turned her marshmallow skewer into a… monstrous snowman. Elsa made a face. "He looks kinda scary."

"Nuh uh! He just wants people to think he's scary but he's actually really sweet. He likes chocolate and snow fights and, um…" Anna's little nose wrinkled. "… dressing up!"

"Dressing up? Like a princess?"

"Like a _prince_ , silly! With a crown and everything!"

"Okay… but why does he need to be scary?"

"Because," Anna said, swinging her legs. "He's gonna scare off all the bad guys for you."

"… For me?" Elsa asked blankly.

Anna grinned at her, cheeks puffy – and Elsa realised her skewer was suddenly two marshmallows short. "Hey!"

She laughed and grabbed her sister. Anna squealed. They fell back against the wooden walkway. Elsa thought it would be bad if they got their dresses dirty, but then Anna dropped on top of her, and Elsa let out an unladylike grunt. _Oh well._

"Don't worry, Elsa," Anna said blissfully. "I won't let the bad people get you."

* * *

Anna made a grand flourish. "Welcome to Arendelle Castle's warmest, friendliest… uh… place!"

Prince Gregory tilted his head. "It's a stable."

"Oh no," Prince Fredrik groaned.

"You don't like it?" Anna asked.

Fredrik immediately straightened up. "Not at all, my lady! How can you mistake such excitement for anything else? T-To the stables!"

"Aww, that's the spirit!"

Elsa watched her sister lead their esteemed guests inside and realised she didn't know how to react. Not until Anna noticed her missing and doubled back, smile still plastered in place. In that moment, she truly looked like a royal princess, entirely in her element.

Then she reached Elsa and hissed under her breath, " _Help._ "

Still feeling overwhelmed, Elsa angled her head towards her sister. "Why the stables?" she whispered back.

Prince Lucio looked curiously over his shoulder. Anna grinned and waved to him. To Elsa: "Because _Fredrik_."

Elsa didn't understand the exasperated tone in her sister's voice – but she did understand that Prince Fredrik of Weselton was completely enraptured with Anna after sweeping her into a most… _peculiar_ dance. He hadn't spared a glance at Elsa since they’d left the portrait room, which was partly a relief but mostly brought a twist of failure to Elsa's throat. This was not how it was supposed to be.

She'd wanted Anna to spend her birthday with music and people. Other people.

Fredrik let out a frightened squeak. "Ah! It's him! It's _him_!"

"Why, Fredrik, you just told us zat you liked horses."

"You don't understand, Lucio, this one is – _see_? He's trying to eat me!"

Elsa started toward the commotion, but Anna's hand landed her arm. "It's okay," her sister grinned, eyes twinkling mischievously. "He found Chestnut – I'll handle it." Skipping past Elsa, she called, "It's alright, Fredrik. He just likes your hair!"

And Elsa was alone. The chilly air felt eerily comforting, clearing her head. She hesitated, then looked across the courtyard at the gates. The sounds of the festival wafted over the high walls.

This was why she had asked Kai not to tell Anna.

Inside, she found Lucio leaning across to pat a shy pony. A petrified Fredrik dangled a trembling carrot in front of Anna's horse. "Chestnut loves anyone who feeds him carrots – oops, watch your fingers!"

Elsa felt her shoulders ease slightly.

"Fredrik looks smitten by your sister."

Gregory leaned beside the doorway, arms crossed over his built chest. Elsa had heard that many of the Southern Isles' royalty were naval officers, and Gregory gave her no reason to doubt that he was one of them. After all, he did not play the royalty game like the others.

She smiled a little too tightly. "I believe they've met before." _Riding_ , Fredrik had said. And now they were standing in the stables, three princes and two princesses.

Too many.

Gregory's deep green eyes flickered over Elsa. His gaze carried a weight she hadn't felt since seeing her parents to their ship – the confidence of someone older. Elsa had the feeling Gregory did not only treat her like a child; he treated her as if she were already queen.

"It's hard, isn't it?"

"I beg your pardon?"

His lips stretched in a thin smile. "Having younger siblings."

_Catch me…!_

"I… Do you have many siblings, Prince Gregory?"

His deep-throated laugh took her aback. "'Many'? Your Highness, I have eleven brothers."

" _Eleven_?" Elsa realised the prospect frightened her.

Gregory shrugged, smirking. "Well, twelve if you count _that one_. Though technically he doesn't exist right now."

Elsa looked at him. His face was straight. She didn't know what to say. The two of them watched Anna, who was now vehemently insisting that Fredrik try mounting Chestnut. The horse was still 'Gulbrand' in Elsa's mind, still a frightened pony who had sensed the ice beneath her gloves the moment she took his reins. But he was Anna's horse now. 'Chestnut' suited him just fine.

"I hope it's not too much of an affront," Gregory said, "if I find myself comparing our younger siblings."

"I'm afraid I don't understand. Why might that offend me?"

He smiled grimly at her. "My brother is far, far too naïve."

Elsa was momentarily stunned. She opened her mouth, but stopped midway and focused again on her sister. Her gloves were safe and dry, but also too cold against the underside of her palm. Just like the moment Fredrik had taken her hand in the gallery… if he hadn't released her _right then_ – if Anna hadn't come for her–

Clapping and exclamations filled the stables. To assure Fredrik, Anna had swung onto her horse, winter skirt, boots and rare grace.

Gregory joined in on the applause. Anna's face glowed. Then she spotted Elsa in the corner, and her smile widened. _Still mad at you_ , she mouthed

Their father used to worry that Anna was too oblivious to the world outside the palace walls. Touching her gloves, Elsa smiled back at her sister and hoped Papa could see Anna now.

"I think it's harder for them," she replied.

Gregory glanced at her. "Princess?" he inquired.

"I think it is harder for them," Elsa said quietly, "to be our younger siblings."

* * *

" _What about him?"_

" _Noooo. He's short."_

" _I'm sure he'll grow taller."_

" _But so will I! Mama said so."_

" _What about that boy there? Next to the flowers?"_

" _Does he like chocolate?"_

" _I don't know…"_

" _Then I'll ask him!"_

" _What? Anna! Psst_ – _Anna… oh dear."_

" _Elsa, Elsa! He likes chocolate! We’re going to get married!"_

* * *

Anna spent most of the walk to the dining hall shooting pleading looks at Elsa. At first she thought her sister – patient, forgiving Anna – had finally outgrown her tolerance for Prince Fredrik of Weselton, who had been whispering jokes in her ear for a while now. But Elsa was pinned between Gregory's naval war tactics and Lucio's commentary of Spanish weddings, and she didn't – couldn't – look at Anna lest her eyes betrayed how… glad she was to have her sister's awkward laugh holding up the atmosphere. Because Anna wasn't supposed to be here at all.

Then they reached the massive doors that Elsa had always dreaded as a child – but her mother wasn't there to coax her inside for _just one meal, so your sister can see you_. Instead, a row of stewards awaited them, with two other familiar figures at the head – and when Anna gave her one last look, Elsa finally understood.

Kai and Gerda greeted them with deep bows. Finally managing to extract herself from Fredrik, Anna bounced up to them. "Please tell me dinner is ready!"

Gerda smiled. "Always, Princess Anna."

Then they opened the doors.

Elsa breathed through her nose. She was ready – she had made certain of that – but she saw Anna hesitate as the long meal table stretched before her, and Elsa gripped her gloves. Deep down, she could still hear Anna outside her door: _There are fifty-eight seats at the dinner table… and there's only one of me._

"What a marvelouz hall! Ze architecture is splendid!" Prince Lucio remarked. Fredrik nodded agreeably without taking his eyes off Anna. Gregory stood there with a faint smirk.

Elsa inhaled and took the first step into the warm light of the dining hall. She put on a smile and tried not to look at her sister. "Shall we dine?"

They left the two chairs at the head of the table empty. Kai drew Elsa’s seat out for her. As he spread her napkin, he murmured, "I understand if you are upset with me, Princess."

Anna was conversing with Gerda; too quickly, too distractedly. Across them, the princes jostled for the better seats and Lucio, too small and oblivious to compete with the others, was shunted across. There were people all around her.

Elsa replied lightly, "I tried, Kai… to be upset with you."

"Yes, ma'am."

"I couldn't."

"… Thank you, Your Highness."

Gregory folded into the seat across her. Their eyes met. Elsa fought the need to drop hers to the tablecloth, to escape that piercing stare. She managed it only because she pretended it was her father's kind gaze, reminding her that _You are my heir._

There was a loud clatter. Elsa's head came up. Anna had knocked over her cutlery. She laughed, but Elsa caught her sister’s eyes flickering towards the empty head of the table.

 _Sit still, Anna,_ their father would chuckle. _Most princesses have more grace than a newborn duckling._

Anna let Gerda fetch her a new set of cutlery. Fredrik started another joke, this one about monkeys and tango music. Gregory rolled his eyes. Anna laughed a little too loudly before the punch line.

Elsa didn't notice when the entrée came.

* * *

" _What's that?"_

" _I think it's an ice-sculpting contest."_

" _Ice-stucking?"_

" _Sculpting."_

" _Spucking?"_

" _Scu – Anna, Anna, look at that one! The ice castle – wow, it's so pretty!"_

" _I can't seeeee. Piggyback!"_

" _But- oh, just for a little bit. And don't-"_

" _Tell Mama and Papa, got it!"_

" _Can you see it now? Anna?"_

" _Uh huh…"_

" _Doesn't it look amazing?"_

" _Elsa? Can I come down now?"_

" _Oh… okay. You don't like it?"_

" _It's scary."_

" _The ice castle?"_

" _I don't like being bigger than you."_

* * *

"What else do you enjoy, Princess Anna?" Prince Fredrik asked for the eighth time during dessert.

Anna looked up with half an almond tart in her mouth. She swallowed with some difficulty. "Me? Err… reading?"

"So do I! Perhaps we like the same titles. I particularly enjoy books on crustaceans and hair fashion – and dance, naturally. What about you?"

"Crustawhatsits sound… interesting. I, um, I like…"

Elsa glanced up from her plate. Anna used to love fairytales. The kind where princesses saved the princes and made their own happy endings happen. It had been a long, long time since they had read together.

Gregory's deep voice brought her back, carrying over Anna's stammer. "You don't like fyrstekake, Your Highness?" Elsa looked up and found his emerald gaze fixed squarely on her.

"No, I quite like it," she replied slowly.

"You've barely touched your plate."

"Neither have you, Prince Gregory."

The corner of Gregory's lips quirked, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "I don't care much for anything without meat in it."

Somewhere far away, Elsa heard Fredrik asking Anna, "How about this then? What are you most afraid of?"

Elsa asked, "Shall I get the kitchen to prepare something else?"

And Anna answered, "Doors."

Elsa's head turned.

Anna's eyes grew large, stared horrified into Elsa's. They zipped back to Fredrik. Fumbled – "Wait, no, I mean- I'm scared of walking _into_ them because they just keep jumping at me-" – but it was too late.

Elsa covered her frozen fork with both hands and squeezed it. Hard. She swallowed thin air. _Doors,_ her little sister had said.

Gregory looked between them. Then, "I hear the palace gates have been closed for a long time."

Anna's mouth snapped shut. Elsa's breath caught.

"I just wonder. Why might that be so? You have a kingdom bordered by mountains and water, and with a festival so lively I'd hardly suspect mutiny." Gregory shrugged. "Is there something you're afraid of?"

And in that moment, Elsa realised her mistake. That she had underestimated Prince Gregory of the Southern Isles – no. She had underestimated all three of her guests. It was in Gregory's innocent smile, the turn of Lucio's head, and the pause in Fredrik's conversation–

They wanted to know.

_Elsa, what have you done?_

She felt Anna's stare on her. "I'm not afraid of… you misunderstand. It was our father who ordered the gates shut… I was still young. We both were."

Gregory leaned back. "I see. Curious." Then he shifted and Elsa felt frost in her short breath, because his calculating eyes had landed on Anna. "You wouldn't happen to know, would you?"

Anna started. She had hardly spoken to Gregory – Fredrik hadn't given her the chance. But also because Elsa could tell that even Anna had come to expect formalities, and Gregory had uttered no _Princess_ , no _Your Highness_ – he had only looked at her. Like she was the twelfth brother he didn't think existed. Elsa knew then, that Gregory was testing Anna.

The knot in her dry throat twisted into something worse. She still couldn't find her mother's voice. But something else was rising to the icy surface – something Elsa had not felt in a long time.

Anna blurted, "I know it's not you."

Elsa caught a blizzard in her gloves.

Gregory quirked an eyebrow. "I'm sorry?"

Anna licked her lips. "I-I mean… I don't know. But I just thought…" She shivered. Elsa couldn't tell if it was the sudden chill in the room or her sister's nervousness that showed.

"Anna…" Elsa's voice was a whisper. It was all she could manage.

Anna looked towards her. Blinked. She sat straighter.

"I know Elsa isn't afraid of you," she told Prince Gregory.

He looked amused. "I can't say I was trying very hard… but please, pray tell. How do you know this?"

"Because Elsa is smarter and stronger than me." A grin spread on Anna's lips. "And _I'm_ not afraid of you."

Elsa's grip on her fork loosened. Gregory's eyes flicked to hers.

She realised she was smiling.

"Now zat," Lucio commented, ever oblivious to tension, "is be-oo-tiful."

Gregory looked back at Anna, studied her for a long moment. Perhaps he had decided she was even more naïve than he'd thought. Anna only grinned fearlessly back at him.

Finally, he chuckled and raised his glass of wine. "To Arendelle."

Fredrik kept staring at Anna. He hastily snatched up his glass as well. "And its gracious princesses!"

 _Simply pretend,_ her mother had told her. Elsa was used to the burn now, the sour rush down her throat. She'd had her first wine in this very room, after all.

Beside her, Anna looked dubiously at the crimson liquid in her own glass. Elsa pursed her lips.

She called her sister's name and held her hand out.

Lucio clapped.

It tasted just like Mama said it would – warm afternoons, her favourite fairytale, and forgiving but never, ever forgetting.

* * *

" _Elsa? You won't lose me, will you?"_

" _Not if you don’t let go of my hand."_

" _Good. Because I would cry."_

" _Y-You would?"_

" _Yeah! Really loud, so Elsa can find me. You always come when I cry."_

" _Oh… you don't have to do that, Anna."_

" _But then how would you find me?"_

" _I’d make it snow."_

" _Snow?"_

" _Because Anna always comes to build a snowman."_

* * *

Holding the meeting in the study was a terrible idea.

In between Weselton's timber industry and Gregory's third comment on Arendelle's pacifism, Lucio studied the portrait on the far wall and said, "You truly resemble your father, Prinzess Elsa."

Elsa froze reaching for her cup of tea – her mother's favourite. Slowly, she set it back on the saucer. "Do I?"

Lucio opened his mouth, but Fredrik cut in. "The royal aura," he nodded. "The makings of a mighty ruler."

"The Southern Isles sent a search crew into the waters." Gregory filled her tea, glancing up as he drew back. "A great loss," he finished.

She looked up at her father's likeness. The same painting that hung crooked in her room. Elsa wondered if Anna was still waiting outside, and if her sister’s coat was warm enough for the cold, cold night.

"Prince Gregory."

They all turned to her. Elsa realised she hadn't borrowed her mother's voice this time. Just her own.

"My father had a good reason for closing the gates. I just wanted you to know that."

They discussed inflation for the remainder of the night. When the doors finally opened, Anna jumped up from the floor, hastily wiping drool from her chin. Elsa wondered if Anna still liked to eavesdrop through the keyhole.

They saw Fredrik and Lucio to their guest rooms. It was only one night, Elsa reminded herself.

Despite her insistence, Gregory told them he would return to his ship. "I can't sleep away from the sea," he said, as they stood in the courtyard.

"I don't like the sea," Anna muttered.

Gregory gave a short bark of laughter. "One day, Princess, you'll discover that it's hard to love something that never threatens to hurt you terribly." Then he smiled, and Elsa realised that Prince Gregory was hardly a prince at all. He was simply a man and she envied him that, more than a little.

Anna held onto Elsa's arm until the gates closed firmly on his back. The sky was too dark and clouded for auroras tonight.

Tomorrow, Elsa thought, there would be more ships, more strangers. But that was tomorrow.

Retreating back inside the castle, the weight of the day finally took their toll on Elsa. Everything felt too heavy – her arms, her legs, her eyelids. When Anna flopped down at the bottom of the staircase to kick off her shoes, Elsa joined her unthinkingly. It might have been the way Anna smiled hopefully up at her.

They didn't quite sit in silence. Anna hummed. Elsa felt the fabric of her dress, chilled by the marble step beneath. Queens didn't sit on staircases, she thought.

"Fredrik is a horrible dancer.”

Elsa opened her eyes without realising she had closed them.

"Gregory is..." Anna wrinkled her nose. "He's just weird. I don't like him. I bet he snores and hates snowmen."

Elsa didn't mean to laugh. Quiet and weary as it was, it still echoed. "And Lucio?"

"Ugh, don't get me started on Lucio." Then Anna paused and thought about it. "Actually, Lucio is a sweetheart."

Elsa smiled. Anna grinned.

"I'm not sorry, you know. For, well, everything. And I was joking," she added when Elsa opened her mouth. "I'm not really mad at you. I mean, I _was._ Then Fredrik and his ridiculous dance happened, and at dinner Gregory was just so _blergh_ -"

 _"'Blergh?'"_ Elsa repeated.

"Yes. It's totally a word. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is…" Anna took a breath. "I know why you did it. And I'm not angry at you. So… can you please not be angry with me?"

The night wasn't supposed to be this cold. "Anna, I'm not–"

"Really?!" Anna was practically in her lap, bright eyes searching desperately. "You're really not mad?"

Her sister was too close. But the wine had started an ache behind her eyes and the storm inside had exhausted its winds… and Anna had said she was afraid of doors. Elsa met her sister's gaze and said, "Really."

Anna's eyes widened. Then she fell back with a sigh of relief. "Okay," she said. "Okay."

It would usually be a terrible hour to be awake in a castle this large and quiet. Yet tonight, the cavernous hall felt tranquil. Elsa drew her knees close and tried not to worry about being seen. Reminded herself that there was no one here but Anna.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Anna’s finger traced a pattern in the space between them. "Did you really open the gates… for me?"

Elsa nodded.

"But why?"

"It's where you belong."

"It's your birthday, too."

"You should have gone, Anna."

" _You_ should have told me you were meeting with guys – three of them!"

"They were princes. Guests."

" _Boys_."

"I don't see how this detail is important."

"Important? It's I-could-have-missed-my-Prince-Charming important!"

"Well, did you?"

"… No, not really."

Elsa smiled once more. It felt real this time. "Thank you for taking Fredrik's dance."

"What _was_ that? Monkey with the face of what?"

"I’m not sure. It was… unique, to say the least."

"Say that to my toes!"

The coat around her was too warm. Elsa laid her head against her knees.

A moment later, Anna asked softly, "Are you tired?"

"I’m fine."

"Elsa."

"I just… need a moment."

Anna's shoulder bumped hers; Elsa automatically curled her fingers into her gloves. "And a shoulder," her sister said. "I mean, if you need one, mine is pretty comfortable – well, _I_ think it's comfortable."

The weight of her sister against her kept the world grounded, somehow. Intact. "Can you promise me one thing?"

A rare silence met her reckless words. Elsa lifted her head.

Anna was holding out her pinkie finger, her expression serious.

Elsa felt herself becoming small, so small. Gregory had been right all along. She was afraid of a lot of things.

_Doors._

Her hand shook slightly as she raised it. Anna's shock lasted only a second. She hooked her finger around Elsa's, and Elsa sucked in a breath because her sister's hand had grown so much. If Papa and Mama could see Anna now, they wouldn't worry about losing her in the crowd. Because Anna was sixteen today.

And Elsa meant to tell Anna that she should go the festival tomorrow, and the day after, over and over. To do all the things they used to do and pretend that just five days was enough to fill the mistakes of ten long years and that one, unchangeable night.

But instead she found her eyes closed and her head resting on Anna's shoulder, and she heard herself murmur, "Please don't forget it all."

"Forget what?" Anna's voice sounded far away. "Elsa?"

In Elsa's mind, an old troll reached gently for her sister's head. Flashes of sharp colour against a dark night sky. But before that, she felt a small hand swinging in hers.

_Do the magic, do the magic!_

She smiled and rubbed the ice in her fingers.

_Ready?_

Outside, it began to snow.


	12. Reverse the Storm

It struck Anna for the fifty-third time that she was sitting awfully close to a rattling window.

Well, it wasn't like she was _scared_ of blizzards. She liked snow, after all. And a blizzard was just _a lot_ of snow… whipping up a storm. But she was totally safe here. She was warm in her blanket and Gerda was bringing hot cocoa and-

A fist of wind slammed into the glass. A squeak escaped before Anna could slap her hands over her mouth.

The music didn't falter.

Dragging her eyes away from the trembling glass panes – _they held, thank goodness they held_ – Anna pressed an ear to the door. The notes shifted into something softer – probably some terribly complicated piece from whatever memorable era. Anna didn't know any of the songs Elsa played. She hadn’t known any of the ones her mother used to play, either, but Mama would usually let her make up a name if she managed to sit through the whole song without touching anything.

Elsa used to let Anna choose any key on the piano, and then she’d build a melody around it, just for Anna.

"My lady?"

Anna almost knocked the tray from Gerda's hands. Luckily, Gerda was amazing at keeping things where they were supposed to be. Anna hastily put a finger to her lips. Gerda smiled and left the tray on the floor. There were two mugs on it.

Anna started warming her hands over the steam. It was cold in this part of the castle, but then again she only really came here when the weather was terrible.

Picking up her cup, Anna listened to the piano at her back and wondered if Elsa could smell the chocolate. She hoped not. Elsa hadn't exactly discovered her eavesdropping for all these years but Anna could kind of guess how she would–

"Anna?"

Chocolate gushed up her nose.

There were footsteps, and suddenly Elsa's voice was right by the keyhole. "Are you okay?"

There was an awful sensation in her chest, like her lungs were bailing out hot cocoa. Anna sputtered, "How… how did you know?"

Then the door did this curious thing where it _opened_.

Anna toppled backwards with a startled yelp – but someone caught her by the shoulders. Elsa moved back quickly, took in a short breath and said, "I've had a lot of… practice. I'm sorry I surprised you."

Anna thumped herself on the chest one last time, still clutching her mug, which miraculously hadn’t spilled. And there was her sister, hand still on the doorknob.

The two of them stared at each other for a long moment.

Then Anna's neck began to ache. "Oh, um, hang on-" She pushed the scatter of cards away, moved the tray and shuffled along the wall. "Here," she offered sheepishly.

Elsa blinked. Anna realised she was holding her breath. Elsa took a slow step out of the music room, and glanced back at Anna. Anna caught herself thinking of princes and wine and promises on a stairwell. Then Elsa gathered her skirts and carefully lowered herself to the floor.

"Wow," Anna whispered a little too loudly. Too late, she covered her mouth, but Elsa only smiled shyly and whatever hot cocoa that had actually made its way to Anna's stomach glowed warm and pleasant. She leaned a little closer. "Did you smell the chocolate?"

Elsa reached for the other cup. "I do now. Is this for me?"

Anna nodded eagerly. Elsa sniffed her drink and took a small sip. "Alfred," she said approvingly.

"Did you know Alf is really good at Go Fish? I was in the kitchens playing with him and Markus and it's- it's like he sees it on my face or something! Which is just silly, right? I bet… oh my goodness. Was he cheating? Can you even cheat at Go Fish?"

Elsa hesitated, which was strange because Anna had asked her so many random things during mealtimes and Elsa always knew _something_. "I'm… not sure."

Anna opened her mouth, and then buried it in her cup. She looked sideways… and caught Elsa doing the same thing. Anna couldn’t help giggling.

Elsa's smile finally reached her eyes. And Anna started thinking that maybe a little silence wasn't always a bad thing…

"Why do you only play the piano when it's storming?"

_Stupid, stupid mouth._

Elsa looked surprised. She'd put her cup down and started fidgeting with the cards. And now she wasn’t meeting Anna’s eyes.

"You don't have to answer that! I just, ah– I got that from a book I started reading. Yes, that's it! Doesn't it sound dramatic? It's about zombies and st- _not_ storms and… and… I'm making it worse, aren't I?"

Elsa laughed.

Anna peeked through her fingers.

"It's okay, Anna," her sister said, smiling. "Really."

"… Really?"

"Really."

"Oh." Anna tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "So…?"

Elsa propped the queen of hearts against another card. "Do you remember what we used to do when it stormed?"

"We pushed our beds together and made a blanket fort! Well, _you_ made the fort. I… wait, where was I during all this?"

"The bookshelf?"

"Oh, I was! And I'd stand there for ages, wouldn't I, because I just couldn't pick a book. And so you'd come over too, and we'd end up emptying half the shelf…"

Elsa absently picked up another card. "And you would make me read all of them to you."

"In the funny voices – don't forget the funny voices." Anna sighed happily and leaned into Elsa's arm. When had her sister started allowing that? "God, Elsa… we used to love it when it stormed."

And as if the sky _knew_ , thunder growled high above them. Elsa froze in the middle of stacking another card, and Anna flinched because of lightning and ships and waves.

She searched for Elsa's soothing piano notes, but instead she heard her sister's breathing above her ear and that made it all a little better, somehow.

Elsa passed over her drink and said softly, "You can finish mine."

Anna didn't even notice she had finished her own, and sat up straighter with a puzzled expression. "Are you sure you don't… oh, okay. Well, thank– _Oh_. _My_. _God_."

Startled, Elsa looked up. "What?"

"Is that a _house_ of _cards_?"

They both looked at the paper palace. It seemed so helpless and flimsy, but there was snow and thunder outside and it was just _there_ , standing right before Anna's own eyes. And Elsa had built it.

A bashful smile played across Elsa's lips. "Practice," she admitted.

Anna was baffled. "What else can you do?"

Elsa flushed. "Not as much as you, Anna."

" _Me_? But look at this! I didn't know you were so good with cards! Don't tell me you're a master at Go Fish too. Alfred is so doomed. Oh! Let's go find him now and… what's wrong?"

Elsa spun the last card between her fingers slowly. Anna blinked. _No way..._

"Elsa?" she breathed.

Their eyes met.

"You don't know how to play Go Fish?"

Elsa gave a small smile. She shook her head.

Anna opened and closed her mouth. "What about Snap? And Cheat? Poker?"

"I've read about poker," Elsa offered.

Anna turned back to the house. She swallowed something deep in her throat, but it came up anyway and started to fill her eyes.

The cards toppled as Elsa turned to her in alarm. "Anna? Anna, I-I can teach you. It's not that hard."

"No. No, it's okay, I just–" Anna wiped furiously at her eyes. Elsa's anxious frown blurred. Anna sniffled. "Elsa?"

“Yes?"

"I'm going to teach you how to play Go Fish, okay?"

"O-Okay."

"And we're going to beat Alfred, okay?"

Elsa lifted her hand, hesitated, and then lightly stroked Anna's hair.

"Okay."


	13. Conceal

Her father's chair was still a little too big for Elsa. It had been that way since the first time she'd sat in his lap, wide-eyed and resisting the urge to touch everything. Her father had handed her a quill but most of it had gone up her nose, and Elsa had sneezed all over it.

When she had sheepishly looked up at her father, he'd said, _It's yours, Elsa. All of this will be yours one day._

Now, with the rosewood hard and straight against her back, Elsa thought that she had inherited a terribly uncomfortable seat.

She sat for a long time, eyes closed and simply breathing. Listening. Waiting for the scratch of her father's quill across parchment. She had started to forget that sound and the way it had comforted her. She ran her gloved fingers along the arms of the chair, lingering where the contemplative elbows of many previous rulers of Arendelle had dulled the polished lacquer.

Elsa tried resting her own weight on the spot. A perfect fit.

 _One day,_ her father had said. Elsa glanced at his portrait on the wall, so much larger and serious than the one in her room.

"Soon, Father?" she asked quietly. He did not answer.

There was a knock at the doors.

Elsa grimaced. Anna had found too many excuses to be near her lately and Elsa knew it was her fault. A good leader did not give ground. She knew that.

But it wasn't her sister's singsong laughter that came through. It was Kai's. "I've brought your tea, ma'am."

Elsa's shoulders loosened. Anna was out in the courtyard, where spring had melted the snow and the pond had thawed. She'd mentioned her intention to check on the ducklings it over breakfast, and a long inquisitive pause had followed. Recently Anna had stopped asking for things; she only waited with a hopeful smile and Elsa never quite understood where it came from.

Elsa tried to make herself look comfortable in the hard seat as Kai entered. He lined up a teapot, a porcelain cup and fresh leaves. Elsa smiled because Kai was the only one who let her brew her own tea, as she preferred.

Kai's eyes crinkled warmly. "The weather is marvellous today, ma’am."

Elsa turned slightly, just enough for sunlight to spill through the wide window and onto her face. The sky was a clear crystal sea, wide awake. "It's spring," she murmured. A chilling itch pressed into her fingers. Winter was a dreaded season… but it had kept her safe. Concealed. And now it was gone.

"Princess Anna is by the pond. The animals are returning to the courtyard. It's a lively sight."

"Kai, please… please don't."

Kai's face fell. He bowed. "Is there anything else I can do for you, Your Highness?"

Elsa began to shake her head. Then she stopped. Kai waited. Elsa took in a breath. "My coronation ceremony…"

"Is a long while away." Kai's answer came slightly too quickly.

"The preparations have already begun. The council gave me a draft of guests to review."

"Shall I pass it to one of the ministers?"

Elsa shook her head. "I have already looked through it."

Kai paused. "Is something else bothering you, ma'am?"

She thought she could hear Anna's delighted yelp, far below the office's third floor window. Elsa squeezed her hands and pictured removing her gloves, laying bare hands on the orb and sceptre. There would be hundreds of guests and all of Arendelle at the gates, expecting a queen. "No," Elsa replied softly. "It's nothing."

After Kai left, Elsa looked at her father's strong features again. Then she opened one of the drawers; the one she had been shown many, many times. A marble stamp sat idle and unused on a silk cloth embroidered with Arendelle's floral crest. _It's yours_ , the king's voice told her. Elsa pursed her lips, glancing back at the painting. She reached for the stamp.

It froze solid.

Elsa slammed the drawer shut.

But the ice was spreading – she _felt_ it. She grabbed the pot of hot water. It should have seared even with gloves – but instead there was sizzling and steam and Elsa clutched the heat even tighter because she couldn't burn, that was the point, but what _was_ the point if–

"Stop," she whispered.

_Control it. Don't let it show._

"Stop… please."

She heard Anna’s laugh in the distance.

" _Stop_!"

And, with a frosty sigh, it did.

Elsa sat breathing hard, too scared to move. The pot had gone cold. She didn't look at the drawer. And she shouldn't have looked at her father.

_The gloves will help. See?_

"They're not, Papa. They're… not." She gripped them in fists and heard ice snap. Elsa squeezed her eyes shut. "Help me," she heard herself whisper.

_Knock knock kno-knock knock._

A burst of icicles splayed across the ceiling.

"Elsa? You're in there, aren't you?"

Elsa shot to her feet. She slipped on ice and felt her stomach fall away because this wasn't the first time she'd slipped when she shouldn't – couldn't.

"You won't believe this," Anna's voice gushed happily. "Mama Duck had a new baby and she totally wants me to give him a name but you know how bad I am. I told her I’d see if you had any ideas.”

Elsa watched, horrified, as the doors began to open. Ice shot beneath her feet, racing across the carpet. Elsa had to get to her sister before the cold did so she opened her mouth and she shouted–

" _Go away, Anna._ "

Anna released the door so quickly it made a heavy bang, mere moments before a sheath of ice encased the entire surface. There was a long, shocked silence.

Then a small, confused voice: "Elsa?"

She crossed the room in a few strides and didn't slip this time. The doors had frozen together, the lock jammed. Elsa let out a shaky sigh and turned around, confronting the– curse she had brought into her father's office. _It's yours, Elsa…_ and it was, wasn't it? Her curse. Her fault.

Her sister, rattling the doors so desperately that they buckled at Elsa’s back, throwing her heart against her ribcage.

"Elsa? Elsa! What's wrong? Why won't the doors– grr!" And the great doors, centuries old and inches deep, creaked so loudly Elsa stumbled away from it. Some of the ice splintered.

Anna stopped. "Did I break something? I did, didn't I? Oh boy. The list is piling up… what am I gonna do? I'm probably going to, like, shatter your crown at your coronation – not that I'd be _trying_ to, it's just that I'm so clumsy and… and…"

She trailed off, which wasn't like Anna. Elsa lifted her head but kept her eyes on the floor. It was almost pretty, the way the ice shimmered on the carpet. _Her_ ice _._

“Elsa? Are you okay?”

_No._

“Yes.”

"… Do you really want me to go away?"

Elsa closed her eyes.

"What happened? Is it something I did? I knew I should've let you win that last round of Go Fish! I promise I'll go easy next time. Really easy. Like… no-mind-reading easy. Are we better now?"

 _Better_. Could it really be so simple? Elsa pictured having tea and chocolate with Anna in the sunshine, and pressed the heel of her palm to her eye.

"Is it…" Anna would be biting her lip. Mother used to say she must have learned the habit from her older sister. "Is it because I forgot?"

Elsa's breath crystallised on her lips.

"I-It was something important, wasn't it?" It rushed out in an anxious stammer. "You said… after Fredrik and the others, on the stairs– you made me promise. You told me not to forget something, didn't you?"

Elsa dropped her head back against the cold, cold door. Why hadn’t she simply gone on _concealing?_

"I've been trying, Elsa. I've been thinking and remembering, and I’ve even asked Kai and Gerda—but I don’t know what it is. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but at least give me a hint? Just one will do. Please?"

Elsa was back in the rocky valley with her small hands in an old troll's, and he gave her a pitiful look. _There is beauty in it,_ he told her, but she already knew that because Anna always said so; that her powers were amazing.

But Anna also told her to _catch her,_ and Elsa had missed. She'd missed.

She’d missed her little sister growing up.

"Elsa, please.” Anna waited before adding, "Are you sure you don't want to see the ducklings? They're really cute."

She waited again. She waited longer than Anna was known to wait.

Then she sighed loudly. "Okay. I’ll just… catch you later."

If their mother were here now, Elsa would ask her if she had noticed all the things Anna had taught her that were so much more precious than biting her lip. Because Go Fish started with seven cards and she didn't know how to dance or ride a horse… but Anna did.

A good leader did not give ground.

"Anna," Elsa called softly.

She wondered if she was going to be wrong one day. If, one day, she’d reach out to find that Anna had finally walked away from her.

Maybe. But not today.

"Yeah?" came Anna’s breathless voice. "Wait, how did you know I didn't really… no, don't tell me. Practice, right?"

"Anna, I… I have powers."

"Come again?"

Elsa's gaze fixed on the sky outside, so far away. "I have powers," she repeated, almost distractedly.

"Like… magic?"

A small smile. "Yes."

"Chocolate magic?"

"Not quite."

"Is it dangerous?" Anna's tone was teasing. Elsa realised that Anna enjoyed this; she liked that her big sister was joking with her.

Her guard fell further. "It's very dangerous, but a long time ago…" Her hand touched the door and the ice moulded softly into her fingertips. Was it melting? "A long time ago, it used to be fun."

Anna laughed. Elsa's smile widened, and her vision blurred wetly until the office was just a haze of ice and sunlight.

 _It's for the best,_ her father had said.

For the first time in forever, Elsa wondered.


	14. Something Crazy

The first time Anna brought afternoon tea to the office, she dropped everything.

Of course, nothing would have happened if Elsa hadn't suddenly _opened the door_ and caught her pacing outside because oh God, was she being an annoying little sister? And then there were sandwiches sliding, tea sloshing and teapots careening–

But Elsa caught it. The teapot. And the rest, steadying the tray in Anna's hands. Then they did that thing again – that thing where the two of them just held their breath and stared at each other, not knowing what to say after the last time.

Which, of course, was cue for Kai to come around the corner. "Is everything all right?"

Elsa quickly let go of the tray, clasping her hands.

Anna almost dropped everything again. She righted herself in time and whirled to meet Kai's knowing smile, breathless. "Oh– yeah. Everything's perfect – well actually, it wasn't two seconds ago because tea would've stained– oh wait, _tea._ "

Clearing her throat, she turned back at Elsa. "Um, Alfred told me to bring tea. For you."

Elsa cocked her head. "Earl Grey?"

Anna blinked. "I, uh… think it looks brown?"

Kai suppressed a laugh. The corners of Elsa's lips quirked.

"What?" Anna asked blankly.

Elsa just shook her head and held the door open. Anna gave her a suspicious look, then shrugged it off because at least Elsa was smiling. Still– "Tell me later," she insisted.

"Give me a moment," Elsa answered, and Anna grinned back because she liked that, being next on Elsa's agenda.

Heading inside, Anna set the tray on the coffee table and took her time arranging everything just right; sandwiches close at hand, cup handle facing outwards. Then she sat down. Looked around.

The office was just as she remembered; big and boring. Elsa had somehow managed to keep the paperwork in neat piles, but there were still half-opened envelopes everywhere. And there was a painting of their father on the wall, from his coronation. Copies of it were all over the castle; in the library, the hall of predecessors, and for a month one had hung at the town square, veiled in black.

In the hallway, Elsa and Kai were talking about a _letter, the council_ and _negotiation_.

"Hi Papa." It wasn't that different to talking to Joan. Anna gazed up at her father and tilted her head, wondering. "You're watching us, right?"

She couldn't hear him, but she imagined he nodded.

The doors opened. Anna scrambled back into position just as Elsa re-entered. "Hi!" she chirped breathlessly. "It's– warmer than I thought."

Elsa gave her a curious look. "Shall I open the windows?"

Anna shot to her feet. "How about _I_ open the windows and _you_ sit down and have some sandwiches? No excuses – little sister's orders!"

Elsa raised her eyebrows. Anna tipped up her chin, and it hit her that she didn't know why she was so stuck on this little thing. They stared each other down for a long moment.

Then Elsa sat down, amused. "Be careful. The windows open outwards."

Anna felt a large grin spread on her face and wondered if maybe these little things weren't so little after all.

She pushed the windows open, ushering a fresh breeze into the office. When she turned back, she caught Elsa watching her. "See? I didn't fall out," she teased.

Elsa laughed softly. Was it just her or was there something different about Elsa – a good different?

Anna thoughtfully ran a finger along the window sill. "Can I ask you something?" she said. Out of politeness more than anything, really, because she pointed to the laden desk without waiting for Elsa's nod. "Where exactly is all that coming from?"

"Most of them are records from the library. The remainder are letters and issues from around the kingdom that require attention. Why do you ask?"

"Nothing. I just…" Anna hoped the shrug could successfully hide her frown, because she didn't want to show Elsa how much she didn't like all of this; that her sister was sitting where their father usually sat, doing what he usually did. Because Elsa was the older one and most of the time she was all doors and small smiles, but sometimes she'd say things like _You'll be fine, Anna, I promise_ , and Anna would worry. She'd worry that no one was promising her big sister these simple things. "I just thought the council was taking care of everything until your coronation. That's all."

A flicker ran through Elsa's eyes. Anna couldn't pinpoint it, but her sister sat a little straighter and clasped her hands in her lap. And she knew she'd done it this time – crossed that line into a-little-too-honest.

Anna squeezed the sill. Wasn't she allowed to know anything?

"I can't learn to run a nation overnight, Anna," Elsa murmured.

And Anna got it – really. Elsa was going to be queen. They'd talked about this when they were little, over dolls and hide and seek, and it had felt like the ordeal would happen to them together, because of course they would help each other. Their people would love them.

"Hey, Elsa?"

Elsa opened her eyes. She looked tired.

Anna swallowed. _Do you want to build a snowman?_

"Yes?"

_Go away, Anna._

"I-I think you're going to be an awesome queen."

* * *

_She was five years old, and wanted to play hide and seek. But Elsa was still in the big, boring room with Papa and she didn't know what they were doing in there, only that they were taking a long time. Too long. She thought about skipping straight to hiding. Elsa would find her. Elsa always found her._

_She kind of wanted to find Elsa this time, though._

" _Ten," she began loudly, closing her eyes. "Nine… eight…"_

_She finished and spun around. The door was still closed. Stamping her foot, she started again. "Ten… nine…"_

_On five, she heard Papa's voice growing closer. "Remember, Elsa. It will be yours one day." Then the doors opened._

" _Fourthreetwoone – ready or not, here I come!"_

_She tackled her sister so hard Elsa almost dropped her, and they ended up tangled at Papa's feet. Elsa giggled. "You're heavy, Anna!"_

_She nuzzled her sister's face, making her laugh louder. "Hey, Elsa? Do you wanna–"_

_"Let's go!"_

* * *

The second time Anna brought tea, Elsa walked in when she was halfway up the cupboard, her skirt bunched around her knees.

"What are you doing?" her sister asked slowly.

"Oh, hi! Sorry, I'm going to block you out because I need to focus here…"

"You're going to–"

Anna yelped.

"–hurt yourself," Elsa finished.

Anna sucked on her thumb. "You're distracting me."

Elsa started to smile and, hesitating for a moment, held out a hand. "Come down. Please. Whatever you're trying to do, I'm sure we can find a safer way."

Anna thought it about it, and then took her sister’s hand. She hopped down and stumbled into Elsa, who steadied her. "What were you doing with Father's portrait?"

"Making it crooked."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Making it crooked! You know how they made, like, fifty copies of this painting and put them up everywhere? And how he looks so nervous and weird in all of them because they didn't let him smile? Well, Papa told me once that there's a special one somewhere."

"A special one?" Elsa repeated.

"He said it was hung crooked, so it looks like he's smiling." Except now that she said it aloud, the spell around the mystery seemed to wear off. "Th-then again, he might've said it just to trick me, because I looked _everywhere_ and I haven't found it. Maybe he only said it so I would do stop bugging him and do something else?"

Elsa had gone quiet.

Anna fidgeted with her own fingers, peering at her sister's face. _Oh, just spit it out._ "I thought you'd be more comfortable with Papa smiling at you while you work."

Elsa's eyes flickered to hers. Panic twisted Anna's stomach; Elsa didn't like it, hated it, and she should've asked first – but then Elsa took in a breath and said, "He didn't trick you, Anna. This portrait. There is a copy hanging crooked in a room… he put it up himself."

It took Anna a while to digest. Then her mouth dropped open. " _You've seen it_?"

Slowly, Elsa nodded.

"You cheeky explorer!" There was a place in the castle that Elsa had been that she hadn't – another _world_ in these walls that she knew backwards; _thought_ she'd known backwards. She tugged eagerly on Elsa's arm. "Well, what are we waiting for? Lead the way, sis!"

Elsa shook her head, pulling away. "I can't, Anna. Not– not today."

"It's because you're busy, isn't it? That's okay – I can help you finish and afterwards we can look–"

" _Anna,_ " Elsa interrupted.

And Anna stopped, wide-eyed, because that was Elsa's big sister voice. Just like that day with the ducklings. Even after _go away, Anna_ and chocolate magic, the office doors had stayed shut until dinnertime.

Anna looked down at her fingers on her sister's sleeve, and knew she had to let go but didn't want to.

Elsa took a breath that didn't look like it was enough. "Please. I have work to do. I can't… I can't play with you anymore."

Anna stared at her sister's face, searching, because that was a joke, right? She tried to laugh. "What do you mean? You promised, remember? When we were little, you promised we'd still have time to play – and look! You're not even queen yet. Come on, Elsa." She reached for her sister's sleeve again.

Elsa took a step backwards, finding the desk and putting air in Anna's fingers. "I'm sorry, Anna."

"But… why?" She looked into her sister's eyes – _walls_ – and suddenly Gregory's gravelly voice was in her head, leaning across the dining table towards Elsa, asking– "What are you so afraid of?"

Elsa froze. "Anna–"

Anna took a step forward. "No! _Why_ , Elsa? What did I forget? If I could just remember–"

" _Enough_ , Anna."

"Why are you making this so hard? Why can't we just talk?"

"Because you wouldn't– understand. I'm only trying to protect you!"

"From _what_?" Anna shouted.

Elsa flinched.

Anna swallowed something thick and hot. "We used to be so close… and then suddenly I'm in a room by myself, and you and Papa and Mama – you just _expect_ me to understand? I was five years old!" She swiped at her eyes, frustrated. "What did you want me to do?"

Elsa crossed her arms, locking her elbows. "Anna," she breathed shakily, and Anna realised she had cornered her sister. She stumbled back. "Anna… I was a child, too. Have you forgotten that?"

Apparently, she had forgotten a lot of things. Anna shivered. Elsa wouldn't look at her. She tried one last time.

"Why can't you just tell me?"

"Don't you see? I already did."

* * *

_She was ten years old and doodling._

_Eventually, her tutor closed his book and cleared his throat_ very loudly _over her ear. "Might I see that, Your Highness?"_

_She proudly flashed her pencil snowman. Her tutor lifted his spectacles, squinted at the page, and sighed. "This will not do, Princess Anna. This will not do at all."_

_She pouted because Elsa would have said it was amazing, an utter masterpiece and wasn't she just a child prodigy? She wouldn't let it get to her head, of course, but no one treated her like a five year old anymore and some days that was all she wanted._

" _You must keep up with your studies," her tutor went on._

" _But I am," she protested._

_He pinched the bridge of his nose like he couldn't believe this was his job. "One day, Princess, you may need to oversee Arendelle in its entirety. When that happens–"_

" _What do you mean 'when'?" she cut in. "It won't. Elsa's going to be queen."_

" _This is hypothetical, Your Highness."_

" _Well, Elsa's gonna be the best queen ever." She puffed up her chest. "And I'm gonna be her right hand."_

_Her tutor regarded her. He replaced his spectacles and picked up his book. "Then surely you will need to be focused during your lessons, in order to be useful to the queen. Let's begin again on page forty-two."_

_After the lesson, she slipped the snowman drawing under Elsa's door, like all the rest. "We'll show him," she told the white door._

* * *

" _I can't play with you anymore_ , she says. _You wouldn't understand_ , she says." Anna threw a fistful of hay into the air. "Well, _I_ say I really _don't_ understand! How hard is it to sit me down, hold my hand, and just tell me everything? Easy, right? I think it's easy. Don't you?"

Chestnut gave a half-hearted snort.

Anna rounded on him. "No sleeping while I'm spilling my heart out to you. Do you hear me? We still have to–" A yawn swallowed the rest of her sentence.

Chestnut gave her a pointed look.

Anna rubbed her eyes. "Okay, okay. Fine. Let's call it a day." Or two, considering it was late – or early – into the next morning and there would probably be a huge fuss in a few hours when Gerda didn't find her in bed. But she would figure it out eventually. Where else would she go if not the stables?

Not to the white door, that was for sure.

Sinking into the soft hay and breathing in that musky smell she had grown up with, Anna grumbled, "She's a stinker."

Her makeshift bed trembled as Chestnut shook himself out. He gave her a sleepy but meaningful look.

Anna pulled a face. "Wait, so now it's my fault too?"

A chilly draught seeped through the wooden walls. If she were in her own bed, she would hug her battered old doll, but she wasn't – and best buddies or not, Chestnut was still a horse with very hard hooves. So Anna shivered and curled into herself, wondering if this was how Elsa had spent her first night in her new room, alone, because _I was a child, too._

She sighed. "I know… I know it's my fault too."

The thatched roof creaked overhead. Then it increased to a drum.

Anna groaned. "Oh no you don't." But it did.

The rain came.

Chestnut shuffled nervously, ears twitching. Just about done with everything, Anna patted his flank spiritlessly. "It's okay, buddy. The sky is just taking a shower. It’ll wake up clean and colourful afterwards."

Elsa had told her that. Sometimes Anna wondered how she remembered so many of these little moments, being so young and small, and how she could forget the things that really mattered. All she knew was that if Elsa – the old Elsa – were here, they'd be snuggled under the blankets with hot cocoa, lending goofy voices to their favourite fairy tales. It would be nice. Fun.

They'd probably fight a lot more than this too, she and the old Elsa, but that was okay because they would learn how to deal with that. They would sneak chocolate from the kitchen, build snowmen, slide in their socks, and pick Prince Charmings together. And maybe, maybe, their parents wouldn't have boarded the ship and–

_I'm only trying to protect you._

Smiling in the darkness, Anna realised her cheeks were wet. She dropped a hand over her eyes. She breathed. And then she laughed, half sobbing, because it was all so silly. Happy endings like that just didn't happen. It wouldn't be fair. Joan said so. And besides…

_A long time ago,_ her sister said with a smile in her voice, _it used to be fun._

Besides, she only had one sister.

Anna listened to the rain and Chestnut's heavy breathing. Then she got up.

* * *

_She was five years old again, and she didn't know where she was. Somewhere white and cold and quiet. She didn't like it._

_But she wasn't alone. "Ready?" an excited voice asked her._

_She nodded, grinning._

_She was born ready._


	15. Defying Gravity

_She was eight years old, and she snapped awake to a figure at the end of her bed. Her first instinct was to push away and shrink into the headboard._

_"Shh," Mama said. "You'll wake her."_

_She started to say that she was already awake and the bad dreams were getting worse and she was scared. But then she heard a snuffling sound from her mother's arms and she gasped because she_ knew _that sound._

_"Mama, you can't!"_

" _I can't what, sweetheart?"_

" _Anna isn't supposed to know that I have–"_

" _She doesn't know," Mama soothed. "She won't. Look at her."_

_She hesitated. Then she reached under her pillow for the new gloves Papa had given her. Her mother sighed._

_Her little sister slept with her thumb in her mouth. Was she still doing that?_

_She leaned closer – that piece of white hair was bright in the dark. She started to pull away – but her mother reached out and hugged her to her side, and she protested until Mama began to hum and rock. Anna was warm._

_Mama rested her cheek against her head. "One day, Elsa. One day, you will be able to tell her."_

_She looked up. "Everything?"_

" _Everything."_

" _When?"_

" _Whenever you feel ready."_

_She started to feel sleepy. "But Mama… I can't control my powers yet."_

_Her mother kissed her head. "Whenever you feel ready, Elsa," she repeated lightly. "She could never be afraid of you."_

* * *

After all this, she didn't remember how to knock.

She’d tried to rehearse it in her head, between the tossing and turning and realising that sleep was impossible either way. But now that she had forced herself to walk down the hallway, just to see, Elsa found herself clenching her hands.

She sighed and dropped her forehead to the door. "What do you want me to do, Anna?"

She should know the silence better than herself by now, but it still stung.

Elsa touched the handle – and ice glistened in the grey light.

She jerked away, tripping over her nightgown. Closed her eyes, remembered to breathe. _Of course._ It was better this way. Her powers knew.

There was a lot to be done tomorrow; letters to be written and important names to be remembered. Documents that required the seal; the seal she could now pick up without freezing. What was she doing so far from her duties?

But Anna had stammered, _I-I think you're going to be an awesome queen._

And Elsa knew that would be breaking everything she had promised her father, and she would never be able to look at his portrait or sit comforted in his office ever again. But she'd made Anna cry.

_Whenever you feel ready._

The moment Elsa touched the door’s handle, she knew – if she stepped into that room now, she would wake Anna and she would tell her everything. And for a split second, Elsa wondered if that was really such a bad thing.

Then the ice shattered. And the cold surged through her veins.

Elsa gasped, clutching her hands to her chest. But the curse wouldn't hold and heaven knew she was _trying_ , except the most terrifying thing about the magic leaping off her skin was that she had once loved and wielded it like her own breathing, only she'd forgotten how and it hadn't.

"Anna…" Elsa banged feebly on the door. Her fingers were numb. The ice pushed for release. She held it – somehow, she held it. It stole away her breath. "Anna… Anna! Please– I need to tell you something. I–"

Too late. The next knock swallowed the door in ice and it spread, flaked edges seeping into the cracks–

" _Don't_!" Her voice rang imperial, echoing down the hallway. Chest heaving, Elsa swallowed. "Don't… don't you dare."

The frost twinkled in the dim light. A trickle of water… and then the entire sheet collapsed in a cascade.

Elsa turned and ran.

There was a distant howl in her ears and if she didn't know better she'd think it was blood, adrenaline. But Elsa had been born with her curse– powers– magic, and it was certainly a blizzard storming beneath her skin. It wouldn't hold.

No– she hurried past her room without thought, staggering down the stairwell– _she_ wouldn't hold.

She slipped on the last step, but instead of crashing to the floor, she stumbled into a snowbank. Elsa pushed herself up – but the snow sucked on her wrists.

"No–" she began, but the snow had already pulled off her gloves. She stared, because for all the trouble it had caused her over the years, her magic had never before showed a life of its own.

She burst into the Great Hall. The storm inside her raged on, but for some reason Elsa felt light. Like she wasn't truly awake and anything she did now would be hers only. Like a dream.

Elsa looked to the two thrones sitting at the head of the room, vacant. "I'm so sorry," she breathed.

 _Do the magic,_ a little girl giggled.

She let it go.

* * *

 _She was twelve years old, and it was snowing. It wasn't her fault this time – just winter. She'd been woken at dawn by her sister's excited banging on her door, asking_ that question _again, and she'd thrown the blanket over her head and mumbled_ yes _into her pillow. Then she'd tried to fall back asleep._

_She wound up huddled by the window, watching her sister build snowmen in the courtyard. "You forgot your scarf, silly," she whispered._

_Anna was out there for hours, and so she sat there for hours. At one point her breakfast arrived with a knock at the door, and it wasn't Gerda or Kai._

_"I believe the chef sneaked you some chocolate," her father smiled. She smiled back, a small polite gesture, because her father didn't know Anna had been doing the same for years now. "Is there anything you need?" he asked._

_If it was her mother, she might have said something different, perhaps even something daring. But it was the king in her room today and winter always made both of them anxious. So she shook her head and squeezed her hands as her father patted her shoulder. "Tonight?" he asked her, and she knew it meant_ practice _, because no one would question snow and ice in winter. She gave another smile._

_When she returned to the window, Anna was chasing a black cat. It looked just like the one they used to catch as kids, and she worried a little as her sister shimmied up a tree, hoping the guards were watching, too. Eventually the chase returned to the ground. Her sister feinted left and right – but just as she pounced, the snow at her feet hardened into ice and she slipped spectacularly._

_High up in her room, she looked at her hands and said, "Oh. Sorry, Anna."_

_But still, she waggled her fingers experimentally. Anna yelped as she slipped again. The cat darted through her legs. Another flick of a finger, and the cat yowled as it skated across ice. Laughing, Anna slid towards it, arms outstretched. Then her sister slipped again, this time on her own but–_

_She jumped, slamming her hands to the window. A thread of snow caught Anna's ankle, tripping her face-first into another heap of snow. The cat stopped and watched warily from a safe distance._

_Anna burst to the surface, sputtering. She reached out and her hand splashed water. She shouted "Cold!" and scrambled away, realising how close she had come to falling into the pond. She looked around._

_Elsa ducked down, covering her mouth, eyes wide as orbs. And then she laughed._

* * *

The first thing Elsa saw when she hesitantly opened her eyes, was her own hand – bare and pale and trembling.

The second thing, sprinkling down from nowhere and fluttering to her feet, was a snowflake. It slipped between her fingers but came to her anyway, sweeping up to rest on her shoulder. She realised her nightgown was dusted white. Her hair had come loose.

It was the strangest feeling, lifting her head to see what she had done. Like hot wax on cold skin and the jolt of waking up falling _–_ it was terrible and exhilarating, and now there were no more promises to keep. She’d broken all of them.

Was it wrong that she felt light?

_Come on, come on, come on–_

_Shhh._

– _come on, come on!_

Elsa trailed her hand through the snow. It was warm. She felt a smile on her face and just like that, she was eight years old and nothing bad had ever happened.

_Do the magic, do the magic!_

Her hands began to work on their own. She hadn't done this in a long time; her fingers had grown. She got down on her knees. She'd never done it on her own before and she didn't want to cheat because Anna had always done it the hard way – the fun way.

_Ready?_

"Olaf, Olaf… where is your nose?" Elsa muttered, casting around. She usually gathered his arms in the courtyard while Anna ran to the kitchen. At some point it had started to rain outside; she couldn't see it, but the frost along the windows hissed.

Elsa got to her feet. "Wait here," she said breathlessly. "Don't _–_ don't melt. Please."

_Ready?_

"Please, Olaf."

* * *

_She was nineteen years old, and there were too many secrets._

* * *

The thought came to her as she walked back down the lightening corridor, turning a carrot over in her hands. And then there were a thousand other thoughts in her head—how was she going to get rid of the snow? How horrified must her parents be, watching her from their empty thrones? What if she did this more often?

What if she could control it?

Her father had never been cross when their 'practice' sessions ended in her shrinking away from him. She was sure he must have been frightened of the ice, but he never showed it. He only gave her new gloves the next day, because back then it was all it took to make Elsa happy.

Without them, she could feel the air running between her fingers.

Maybe, if she got better at this, she could show Anna.

Maybe, one day, there would be no more secrets between them.

Maybe–

She didn't notice that the doors were standing ajar even though she had made sure to close them. She didn't even notice that Olaf must have melted anyway.

Anna was laughing and spinning where the snowman had stood, wet from the rain. She whirled around and caught sight of Elsa frozen at the door. "Elsa, look! Have you _seen_ this? How did all this snow get in here?"

 _No, no, no._ Anna couldn’t be here. She wasn’t allowed to see. She couldn’t know.

But she also didn't look the slightest bit frightened.

"Anna?"

“Yeah?”

Elsa forgot that she no longer had gloves to twist. "I have something to tell–"

"Wow, this place really _is_ huge! You guys could do with some fresh air though – why are all the doors and windows closed up? And in _summer_? Gosh, you guys are missing out."

"E-Elsa?" Anna asked shakily.

"It's not me," she whispered back.

Something stopped by her side, giggling. "Am I right?" it asked her.

Anna screamed.


	16. Oh, The Sky Will Be Blue

"Anna?" Elsa whispered.

"Um." Anna took her hands away from her mouth. "Okay—this might sound crazy and I know I say a lot of crazy things… but I _think_ there's a creepy talking snowman behind you."

Said creepy talking snowman gasped. "Oh, oh, where? I'd love to meet a creepy talking snowman!"

"Oh God, there's _definitely_ a creepy talking snowman behind you. I'm just going to wake up now. Elsa, pinch me."

But Elsa said, " _Olaf?_ "

"Wait, you _know_ the creepy talking snowman?"

"I—"

"Ooh, are we doing introductions? I'm coming!"

"What? No, no, no, you should stay…"

Too late, the snowman ran towards them with an excited grin. Jesus, Anna didn't even know snowmen could run

She pulled frantically at Elsa but her sister was frozen, wide eyes transfixed. Anna gulped and shoved Elsa behind her—just as the snowman stopped at her feet.

He flashed a row of buck teeth up at her. "Hi!"

Anna kicked out without looking. "Run, Elsa!"

Only Elsa didn't move, so Anna had to grab and drag her. Which was so weird because she’d always dragged Elsa _towards_ the trouble when they were little, never away from it.

Elsa stumbled after her. "Anna," she gasped. "Anna, wait."

"For what?" she yelled back.

It hit Anna that everything was definitely out of whack if _she_ was the voice of reason. Was this really happening? If this was a siege and she was clearly the princess, where in the world was her valiant knight?

They made it to the doors. Anna pushed Elsa through, then heaved the great doors shut. And she leaned there for a moment, catching her breath and her thoughts.

Then she began to laugh, and she must have sounded crazed because Elsa snapped out her daze to give her a concerned look. "A-Are you alright?"

Anna wiped her eyes, still chuckling. "Oh yeah. I mean, I just decapitated a talking snowman! How brave is that?"

"Hellooooo?" a muffled voice echoed through the door.

"Oh no, it's still alive!" Anna squeaked, as Elsa stared down at her own hands.

"But _how_?" she whispered.

"I don't know! Isn't that the mystery of the century? Gosh, Elsa, you usually make so much more sense." Because if _Elsa_ didn't know what to do, what could Anna do?

Sneeze, apparently.

"You're drenched," Elsa said.

Anna finally realised that Elsa’s hand was… warm. She wasn’t wearing her gloves and— “Are you holding a _carrot_?"

They both looked down. Elsa's fingers twitched in Anna's, and Anna started loosening her grip because this was something she had always known—not talking snowmen, but watching her older sister bring up her walls. She wished she'd kept her mouth shut.

Elsa pushed her bare hands (and carrot) behind her back, hiding them. Then she slid down the wall to the ground and hugged her knees. 

Anna just stared, and it was so bizarre, looking _down_ at Elsa, that she shivered. Was it just her, or was it really cold? She sat down, too, but not too close, because she was still wet from the rain and she didn't want to get Elsa sick.

"I took them off," Elsa said quietly. "The gloves."

"So I guess you really don't have a thing about dirt?"

"How could I, with a sister like you?"

Anna's mouth dropped open. "I'll have you know that I'm very graceful now, thank you! And it's not like—" _Like we've played together like that in years._ "—um, not like I still chase animals and climb trees—much."

Elsa smiled and looked down.

They listened to what sounded like squeaky footsteps sliding on ice on the other side of the door. Anna hugged her knees. How did it get like this? Not too long ago, she had been fighting with Elsa and getting counsel from Chestnut. Now there were talking snowmen and snow falling from empty ceilings. Some of the snow had even made it out here, clumped at the bottom of the stairwell. Where did all that leave them, now?

Anna held her arm out to Elsa. Elsa glanced at her, then gently pinched the underside of her wrist. _Ow_. Anna mumbled, "Damn."

Elsa sighed again, dropping her head back to the door. A moment later, softly, she said, "Language."

Anna turned her head. " _Really_ , Elsa?"

Elsa looked back. "Yes?"

They continued staring at each other. Then they both burst into laughter.

"We're going crazy," Anna snorted, giggling.

Elsa covered her mouth as she laughed and Anna forgot to be angry with her sister. Suddenly, she was sure she could never be truly mad with Elsa, the same way she was certain that Elsa would never, ever, hurt her.

"You know," Anna said. "A talking snowman is actually pretty cool—okay, a little creepy. But cool. Hah, _cool_. Get it?"

Elsa pursed her lips. "Anna… I need to tell you something."

Anna tried not to look surprised, but she really was. When was the last time she and Elsa had really, _really_ talked? “Okay. Shoot.”

Elsa fidgeted with her hands and took a deep breath. Then her eyebrows knitted together and slumped back down. "I don't know how to start."

"Guuuuysss?" the snowman called, making them both jump. "A little help over here?"

Anna jumped. Elsa hugged her knees even tighter. She looked so much smaller like that. Anna wondered if Papa had known Elsa did this, and if he'd told her it was okay to, just like Mama had told Anna it was normal to feel lonely.

Anna bit her lip, then got up and brushed herself off. "Okay!" she said in a bright voice. "Here's the plan. I'll distract him and Elsa, you run for your life.” She put her weight against the door. "And if I fall in action, which I _won't_ because that's obviously when my knight in shining armour is supposed to come riding in… but in case I do—"

"I made him," Elsa said.

"What?" Wow, that door was heavy.

"I said I—"

Anna yelped as the door abruptly opened. She fell inwards—just as a headless snowman body bolted out of the hall. Anna didn't have the breath to scream. She just stared, entranced, as the snowy body did a little dance in front of Elsa, then escaped merrily up the stairs before either of them could move.

The snowman’s head was still stuck face down on a hill of snow. "Is this a bad time to mention I'm just a _little_ scared of the dark?"

"Yes," Anna said without thinking, because seeing him like that made her feel like a bully. How did she even decide this talking, dancing, gullible snowman was a threat? Anna loved snowmen. She squared her shoulders and took a step forward. "Okay, hang on—whoa!"

She slipped on the ice… and fell backwards into a slope of snow that she didn't remember being there.

"Be careful," Elsa said quietly from behind her.

Anna shot a quick grin over her shoulder. She made it across the hall without injury and, very carefully, picked up the snowman’s head.

And almost dropped it when it exclaimed, "Oh! Lights back on!"

Okay. Too weird. Anna held it away at arm's length. "You have a lot of explaining to do, Mister… uh… what did Elsa call you earlier?"

"Olaf!" he supplied helpfully.

"Yes! Olaf! You can't just waltz into a castle like a… wait." Something in her memory dislodged. Anna frowned and looked at the snowman. He grinned back. Somehow, his face looked like it was missing something. A carrot?

 _Watch this!_ her big sister whispered excitedly in the dark

"Olaf…?" Anna breathed.

"Yup! And you are…?"

_I love you, Olaf!_

Opening and closing her mouth dumbly, Anna turned around.

Elsa was standing behind her, arms folded and tucked towards her stomach. Their eyes met.

"Elsa?" Anna didn't know why she was whispering. Maybe because she felt strange; her thoughts were scattered and starting to hurt her head, and she just couldn't figure out why all this snow and ice looked so familiar. So she asked the one person she'd always trusted for an answer: "What's going on?"

"I told you," Elsa whispered. "I made him."

"Made?"

_Do you wanna build a snowman?_

Elsa took a deep breath and swallowed. "I made Olaf." She gestured at the rest of the snowing hall. Anna looked up. "I made… all of this."

A falling snowflake stuck to the back of Anna's hand and melted on her skin. Cold and definitely real. "What," Anna laughed jokingly. "Like magic?"

Elsa didn't say anything.

"… Elsa?"

"I don't know how he came to life," her sister blurted. "I never found out what I was capable of. Father tried to help me control it but I just couldn't and… I'm sorry, Anna, I'm so sorry…" Elsa took a deep, deep breath and asked, "Do you remember now?"

As if Anna had forgotten.

"I… You mean I knew about this _before_?" A sharp pain speared her head. Anna stumbled back a step, stunned. "Whoa… _ow_."

"Do you have a headache?" Olaf asked. "I always wanted to know how a headache feels.”

And then Elsa was there, just like she was every time Anna fell over or did something stupid or… _Did I really forget?_ "Anna? Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

It felt like a certain part of her hair was glowing hot into her scalp. "I-It's okay," Anna said. She shook her head lightly. "I just…" _Just_. "What do you mean you can do _magic_?"

Elsa looked like she wanted to hold Anna's face in her hands and make sure she was really alright. Instead, she reluctantly met Anna's searching gaze. "Father said I was born with them."

"Born?" And then a thought. "Does that mean I have them, too?"

"No," Elsa said quickly, lightly. "I don't think you do."

"Oh…"

"You wouldn't want them, Anna."

"Why not? It sounds—looks—amazing to me. I mean, you _made_ all of this!"

"It was an accident." Elsa said it like it pained her.

"Do you do this every night? By yourself?" Because the thought made Anna sad and angry, and neither of those emotions went well with snow.

" _No._ It hasn't happened in ten… eleven years. Anna, it was an _accident_." Elsa seemed desperate to make her understand that point. And Anna thought she did. Kind of.

But even if she believed Elsa—and she did; how could she not?—there was one thing she didn't understand.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Elsa looked away. "I… did tell you, Anna… You didn't believe me."

At first, Anna frowned because Elsa just wasn't very good at telling her things. But then she remembered knocking on Papa's office doors and finding them locked and Elsa on the other side whispering, _Anna, I… I have powers_.

"Oh my God. You didn't tell me to believe you!"

Elsa blinked. "What? No, I—I didn't _want_ you to believe me. You would've been scared."

"Scared? I'm not—wait. _Wait._ " Anna wished the whirring in her head would slow down, but it only scrambled faster. "Is this the reason you shut me out for all these years?"

Elsa opened her mouth and shut it again. Her eyes said it all. Anna let out a short, disbelieving gasp.

"Elsa! You shut me out for _ten years_ because you made up my own mind for me?”

" _No_ —Anna, you don’t understand. My powers are dangerous." As Elsa said this, a gust of winter chill picked up off the ground and began to swirl in an agitated gale around her.

"Come on, guys," Olaf piped up worriedly. "Sisters shouldn't fight, right? Now let's come together and give each other a warm—"

"Why didn't you just tell me?" Anna realised she was shouting. She looked past her sister at their parents' empty thrones, and her throat clammed up. "Mama and Papa knew, didn't they? I was the only one who had no clue?"

Elsa kept shaking her head. She started to pace. The gale picked up into a storm, flinging snow around the hall. "Can’t you see? I was trying to protect you!"

How many times had she heard that before?

"But why did it have to be from you?" Anna heard herself ask.

And the storm froze. Everything, even the snow in the air and Anna's breath and Elsa's horrified expression—everything froze, suspended. Like a blizzard between two sisters.

Anna forgot that she was afraid of storms.

"Because," Elsa whispered, swallowing. "I still remember how you jumped on me in bed. I remember that the sky was awake. I remember ice-skating and building Olaf together, and I… I remember Papa and Mama running into this hall. I remember my first time on a horse. I remember red lights in the sky."

Anna heard ice cracking.

"I _remember_ , Anna," Elsa said. "And you forgot that I didn't manage to catch you, every time."

* * *

"I have a good feeling about this one," Olaf said happily. "A wonderfully good feeling! Just the kind of place my butt would run to."

Elsa stepped forward and open the door to what had to be at least the third broom cupboard.

"Okay, guess not!" Nothing seemed to dampen Olaf's spirits—even though dampening was exactly what he was doing in Anna's hands. His chill was turning her hands slick and dribbling down her wrists.

"Olaf, you're _melting_."

"Aha! I have a particularly good feeling about the door over that—no, the one after that. _Yes_. Open it!"

" _Olaf_ ," Anna said, exasperated, because she hardly knew him yet somehow cared so much more than Olaf did himself, and it might've been that he acted like a bubbly child or just the fact that he was a snowman and she loved snowmen—she just worried that he would melt. Disappear.

This time, Elsa opened the door to the music room. Anna knew, of course. She knew all the doors in castle. Which comforted her just a little, knowing _something_. Because right now, Anna didn't know a lot of things. Like whether or not Elsa wanted to talk to her ever again.

How could she forget?

"This one! _Amazing_ feeling about this one. I'd feel it in my bones if I had any!"

Anna looked up. And blinked. A few steps ahead, Elsa had stopped. Anna could see why Olaf had a good feeling about this door; it was already standing ajar, and there were sprinkles of white on the floor.

For the first time since leaving the snowing hall, Anna caught Elsa's eye.

"I'm coming, butt!" Olaf struggled in Anna's arms to peer around the door.

"Wait," Anna told him. "We need to knock first."

"Oh. Why?"

"Because it's a bedroom."

"How do you know?"

" _Because_. Gosh, Olaf!"

"Then whose is it?"

"It's—"

Elsa reached over Anna's shoulder and pushed the white door open. "Mine," she said softly.

Whenever Anna imagined Elsa's room (which was often), she pictured what Elsa's side used to look like in their shared bedroom, a little more grown up. Because if Anna's had barely changed, Elsa's couldn't have either, right? There would probably be dolls in order by name, various teas in little drawers, maybe a magnificent house of cards on display…

Anna stepped inside, and gasped.

" _Papa_?"

"Butt!" Olaf exclaimed. He rolled out of Anna's arms landed with a thick wet _splat_ on the floor. He struggled towards the made bed, where the rest of him was bouncing on Elsa's comforter.

Anna stared at the crooked portrait, his lopsided smile, and wondered how long Papa had waited for her to find him here.

Then a cold breeze brushed past Anna's elbow and swept up Olaf's head, propelling him back onto his body with a satisfied " _Ah_! Much better."

And even though she was upset and confused and awkward, Anna spun around and said, "That was amazing."

Elsa bashfully lowered her hand. "I wasn't sure I could do it."

Olaf, now fully intact, barrelled into the back of Anna's legs. "Let's do this properly now, shall we?" He wrapped his stick arms around her shins and beamed up at her. "Hi, I'm Olaf and I like warm hugs!"

Anna crouched down to shake Olaf's enthusiastic hand. "I'm Anna. And I'm sorry for kicking you."

"That's okay; I don't have a skull. Or bones. Say, you two are sisters, aren’t you? I've always wanted a sibling! What’s it like?"

"It's…" Anna glanced up at Elsa. Were they still fighting? "… kind of complicated, sometimes. But it’s something that never goes away.”

Elsa knelt down on the other side of Olaf. She reached out and carefully stroked his head with her fingertips. "No," she agreed. “It doesn’t go away.”

“Sometimes they stop talking to you for no reason, though.”

“Sometimes they don’t understand when you’re doing something for their own good.”

Anna’s nose wrinkled. “It can be frustrating, but it’s something I would never trade for anything.”

“Because it’s unconditional,” Elsa said.

"Wow," Olaf remarked, pushing his slumping front teeth back into his mouth. "You two really are sisters."

Elsa met Anna's gaze again, and Anna blinked because there was a warm, familiar look in Elsa's eyes that made her feel like, between Anna and the world, Elsa would choose her little sister. Always.

Anna pulled a giggling Olaf into her lap. "Can't you help him, Elsa?" she said. Because even though they hadn't known each other long—and she had spent most of that time wrestling with his dislocated body parts—Anna was suddenly certain that she would be devastated to say goodbye to Olaf.

She caught Elsa's glance up at Papa's portrait on the wall. Anna looked at it, too, and it made her heart squeezed, seeing her father so close. She wished Papa and Mama hadn't moved Elsa into this room.

"Why are you so scared of your magic?"

"Why aren't you?" Elsa asked back.

Anna thought about it. Then she stood up so quickly Olaf tumbled from her lap into Elsa's. "If you could do anything to me right now, what would you do?"

Elsa's brow furrowed.

"Oh, just play along! I'll even close my eyes."

Olaf chimed in, "Is this a new game? I'll close my eyes, too!"

Eventually, Elsa asked, "Anything?"

Anna nodded. She even spread her arms a little—just a little, because she didn't want Elsa to think she was _expecting_ a warm hug or anything, even though there was no doubt at all—

Something wet and _cold_ slapped her square in the face.

" _Elsa_!"

"You said," Elsa laughed, brushing white powder off her hands, "I could do anything."

Anna shook snow out of her hair. She didn't realise how hard she was laughing as well, until she had trouble speaking. "And you… threw a… magic… snowball… at me?"

"I'm sorry," Elsa smiled, eyes twinkling.

“No, you’re not.” Anna grinned back. "And look—you didn't hurt me."

Elsa's smile faltered.

"So what's the aim of the game?" Olaf called out. "Am I supposed to guess what's happening? When do I open my eyes?"

Anna turned back to Elsa and smiled hopefully.

Elsa exhaled, closing her eyes for a moment. Then she slowly rubbed her hands together and, right before Anna's eyes, indigo sparks flickered to life.

Magic. _My sister is magical._

"Ready?" Elsa whispered.

As the sky woke over the rain, Anna realised she had never quite understood the true meaning of _unconditional_ until that one, simple word.


	17. The Only Fixer Upper

Elsa started awake to a rattling sound. She lay still on her side, breathing in and out slow, controlled breaths, willing the ice back.

The doorknob continued jangling.

Elsa rose on an elbow and called, "It's not locked."

The clatter stopped with an enlightened "Oh!" and the door swung open. Olaf skipped in with a merry beat. The flurry above his head kept up with his happy twirls, scattering tiny flakes over the floor. Then its chill was right by Elsa's arm, as Olaf popped up by her bedside.

"Good morning, Elsa! The sky is awake!”

"Are you okay?" Elsa whispered.

Olaf cocked his head and flexed his twig arms. "Um, I think so?"

Elsa reached out and touched him—cold, warm to her, but solid. She exhaled a breath she hadn't known she was holding. "Why are you here, Olaf?"

"Why are _you_ here?"

"This is my room."

"That makes a lot of sense!" Olaf heaved himself onto the bed, sitting down by Elsa's feet. "I'm here because you're here."

"It's…" Elsa glanced out the window. "… early. Where's Anna?"

"Oh, she went to bed because she was tired. Did you know there are prison cells in the dungeon? Anna said it was for bad people. How can you tell if someone is bad?"

How, indeed?

Lately, Elsa felt like she had been spending more time in this grey dawning light than regular hours of the day. Apparently, living snowmen did not need sleep. Elsa didn't know where Olaf went during the day, or what he did; she only wished that he managed to stay out of sight like she had asked. Yesterday, Elsa had heard Gerda scream _"It's alive!"_ from the office, resulting in her pen jerking across a semi-important document. There was also talk amongst the guards that Arendelle's winter spirit had awakened and was preparing the palace for a premature cold season. No one had yet approached her with concerns, though. Elsa suspected Anna had something to do with that.

"Sometimes bad people can act good," Elsa said now, rubbing her eyes. Having Olaf come into her room every other night meant she was waking up later than she should be, with so much to do. "And sometimes good people are framed for bad. It's complicated, Olaf."

"Wow, you know a lot about bad people. Anna said she's never seen one before."

Elsa gave a slight smile. "And I hope that never changes.” She got a proper look at the snowman in the dim light. "Where is your nose, Olaf?"

Olaf's hands went to his face, where Anna had pushed a carrot through the morning after—everything. The carrot Elsa had gotten was found in the great hall, which Kai reported had somehow flooded overnight. Anna had been nearby, eating breakfast, and she'd snorted orange juice up her nose.

"Oh!" Olaf gasped. " _That's_ why I'm here!"

"You want me to find your nose? How did you lose it?"

"Chestnut was hungry. I think he likes me."

"Why didn't you ask Anna?"

Olaf picked at his stubby twigs of hair. "She, uh, told me to ask you?"

Elsa arched her eyebrows. She glanced at the open door and the hallway beyond; still an unsettling sight. But it was always Olaf who came in, only Olaf, and after the first few nights, Elsa had resigned herself to routine. She hadn't had as many troubling dreams since Olaf. And Anna knocked on her door a lot less now. Elsa didn’t know how she felt about that.

She swung her legs out of bed. "I think the night chef should have retired to bed by now. Let's be quick."

Olaf cheered that they were going on adventure, and Elsa put a finger to her lips, smiling.

* * *

"My favourite season is summer. What's yours?"

"Shh," Elsa said, watching the candlelight recede around the corner.

Olaf tottered into the corridor. “It’s fine! Hermann is always singing on night duty. He won't hear us at all. Come on, kitchen's this way!"

Elsa stepped out a little more cautiously, but Olaf tugged her along with a happy hum. "Olaf, I don't think you need my help on this particular adventure."

"Why’s that?”

Because Anna had obviously showed Olaf everything she knew about the castle at night; curious shortcuts and patrol routes, and Elsa thought she understood where the winter spirit rumour came from now. In fact, she wouldn't be at all surprised if Anna and Olaf had spread it themselves.

Olaf led her in a zig zag manner down another narrow corridor. Elsa was pretty certain they were taking a ridiculously roundabout way to the kitchens but found that she was actually enjoying herself. It reminded her of another time and adventure, long ago, being pulled along by another hand.

"It's autumn. I enjoy autumn most."

"Uh huh. And what animal do you most identify with?"

"Pardon?"

Olaf nodded patiently. "And what animal—"

"No, no. I understand the question… I'm just afraid I don't know how to answer it."

"That's okay! Do you believe in taking naps?"

By the time they finally reached the kitchen, Elsa had answered so many strange questions that she was struck by how little she knew about herself, until she heard her own answers. After finding out her preferred ink colour—which was only the first passably normal question so far—Olaf seemed to go down a mental checklist, and his eyes lit up again.

Elsa quickly clamped a hand over his mouth. "We really have to be quiet here. Alfred might still be awake… or already awake."

Olaf noisily zipped his lips. Elsa patted his head and tiptoed through the doorway.

The kitchens were darker than most areas of the palace. It had few windows, and even those caught little light, since the chambers were tucked so low into the foundations. As she entered, Elsa saw immediately that the kitchen was empty, because none of the lanterns were lit. Even the head chef Alfred, who kept erratic sleeping hours and was often awake when Elsa came in late for a meal she'd missed, needed light to navigate his own station.

There was a brush of cold by her knee as Olaf poked his head in. "Is this a bad time to remind you that I'm still scared of the dark?"

"It's okay." Elsa glanced towards the ceiling and reached up to unhook a lantern from behind the doorway. When she came back down, Olaf had already been to the bucket of matches and was holding one up to her. Elsa gave him a curious look. "Do you come here with Anna often?"

"I'm not sure. How often is often?"

Elsa just shook her head and struck the match. She'd asked because she knew, sensibly, that Anna was sixteen, coming to seventeen years old now. But the last time they had snuck into the kitchen together, her sister had only been five years old; too small to reach the lanterns, even with a stool and Elsa boosting her from below.

Carrying the light, Elsa moved between the counters and crouched in front of the stores, where the following day's ingredients were already set out. Olaf leaned over her shoulder as Elsa lifted the cover.

She sifted through the crate’s contents. "Can I ask you something, Olaf?"

"Sure!"

"Did I really make you?"

"Yup."

"And you're alive?"

"I think so!"

"But… how?"

"No idea!"

Elsa spotted a familiar shape beneath a shock of spinach.

"And can I ask you something, Elsa?" Olaf cupped his hands around her ear conspiratorially. "What's your ideal Prince Charming?"

The snort escaped before she could even try to withhold it. Elsa cleared her throat, but that didn't stifle all the laughter. "Did Anna really tell you to ask me that?"

Olaf stared blankly for all of three seconds. Then he shook his head so hard it was dizzying. " _Anna_? No! No way, nuh uh. Nada. Zip."

Elsa's lips curved. She reached in and took out a single carrot. "Close your eyes, Olaf."

She didn't think she would ever tire of the pure delight on Olaf's face when he saw his new nose. "Oh, I love this one even more—it's like a personal salad!"

* * *

Olaf wanted to show his new nose to his painted friends in the gallery. Elsa half-heartedly reminded him to stay out of sight, then stifled a yawn. In a couple more hours, the sky wouldn't be the only one awake. And Elsa had her first formal meeting with the governing council in the morning. It had kept her anxious all week, on top of worrying about Olaf, and Elsa thought she would be lucky to fall back asleep at all. But she had to. Her own health was a part of her duties, too.

So she wasn't sure why she knocked on Anna's door.

There was a scrambling sound, then a muffled _thump_ , a stifled yelp. And her sister's voice squeaking: "I'm asleep!"

Elsa looked down at the chocolate bunny in her hands. She place it on the floor by the door, where she sometimes still found one outside hers, and she thought that was enough for one night, too much already. She hoped Anna was in bed, at least.

Then she heard hasty footsteps. "Actually, no I'm not!"

Ice flew from Elsa's fingertips and into the keyhole.

There was a battering crash on the other side of the door.

"Sorry, I'm sorry—are you alright? Anna?"

Nothing. Elsa's heart skipped once; twice—

And then she heard a crumpled groan. "Ow… if you didn't want to see me, sis, you could have just told me."

"I'm sorry," Elsa said again. "It was… reflex."

"Does that come with the powers, too? Magic ice reflexes? Will you freeze all of Arendelle if I tickle you? You’re still ticklish, right?"

"Please don't try."

Anna was quiet for a moment. Elsa pictured her rubbing a sore spot, probably an elbow. "That hurts, Elsa," her sister said finally.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Can you let me out now?"

Elsa lifted a hand… then paused. "No.”

"Very funny, Elsa, I didn't know you had comedy in you. Give us another one."

"Anna, you need to sleep… _I_ need to sleep."

"No, really, I'd love to see how funny you… oh. You're being serious. Okay. Um. Can you let me out an inch to say goodnight? Or good morning?"

"If I do, we'll stay up all night."

"We will?" Anna sounded more hopeful than surprised.

Elsa brought her hands up to her mouth and blew softly into them. In the mornings, she would stand dressed before her cabinet mirror and smooth a hand over the box containing her collection of gloves. She still had the very first pair her father had given her, because they were the ones she had believed in most. Then Elsa would look down at her hands, study the swirl of her own fingerprints, and recall the first brush of air when her own powers had pulled off her gloves.

She took a deep breath. "My favourite season is autumn. I admire any animal that can fly one with the wind and sky. I believe naps should be rewards for fruitful effort… and I think that a princess' happy ending shouldn't hinge on being loved by a prince. Also, black ink is easier to come by."

There was silence as Anna absorbed this, and Elsa thought that this was so different; the wrong side of the door. She hoped that all good things didn't require repayment because recently, Elsa had too many in debt.

Anna said in a sheepish voice, "Did he ask you which language you wished the world spoke more of?"

"Latin."

"Ew."

Elsa smiled, because she could hear a grin in Anna's voice.

"I think you would make a very elegant swan," her sister mused. "At least, I think they can fly. They should, right? I mean, I know there are emus and ostriches—and chickens! But swans? Is that even allowed?"

Elsa touched the frozen fractals on the door and wondered if thawing should come just as easily to her. Because at times like these, Elsa wished they did. "Anna?"

Playfully, Anna rapped a familiar rhythm on the wood between them. _Knock knock kno-knock knock._

Elsa asked, "What else would you like to know?"

"M-Me? About you? Um…" Anna laughed, surprised. "You probably want to sit down for this. Olaf had a lot of ideas. We actually wrote a list and gosh, my handwriting is just _ooft_. Tragic."

Elsa thought of a long conference table and the dress Gerda had set aside in her wardrobe.

"It's alright," she said, as a trickle of water slid down the door.

"Hmm?"

Elsa opened the door.

Anna was sitting right beside the opening, still in her day dress and hugging two pillows. She stared as Elsa closed the door quietly behind her, and sat down against it.

Elsa placed the chocolate bunny between them. Anna blinked at it, and back at Elsa. Then she shuffled closer and handed Elsa a pillow, grinning.

They had time.


	18. It Doesn't Have to be a Snowman

The office had three bookshelves, a decade's worth of finance archives, and not a single book with pictures. Maps didn't count. Anna would have sighed, if Elsa didn't beat her to it.

"Winter crops," her sister exhaled, tapping a pen against the back of her hand. Elsa shook her head, and Anna knew what would come next: cross-referencing one of the thick tomes spread across the desk, followed by a lot of crossing out and, finally, a fresh start on a new sheaf of parchment.

"That's eight," Anna called out.

Even from where she was lying on the couch, she saw Elsa jump. Oops.

"You've sighed eight times in ten minutes." Anna did her best impression of an Elsa sigh; soft and short, like a small bird taking flight. "You're going to get wrinkles."

Elsa looked in her direction for a moment, and then drew a neat line across her paper. "You will, too," she replied shortly.

"Excuse _you_. I sigh in moderation, thank you very much!"

There was a smile in Elsa's voice. "You'll have laugh lines."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No, I don't think so. I like your laugh."

"You do?"

Elsa was suddenly very absorbed in her book.

Anna grinned. "Elsaaaaa."

"I'm reading."

"You like my laugh!"

Elsa idly turned the page. Anna bounced up off the couch and leaned over the table, trying to put her face in her sister's, and as Elsa finally glanced up, lips twitching, Anna laughed.

It was boring in the office, and quiet without Olaf, but there were little things everywhere. Like when Elsa started getting comfortable enough to forget that Anna was in the room, too, and how sometimes she'd remember, look up, and tell Anna she liked her laugh.

Now, as Elsa returned a small smile, Anna touched her forehead to her sister's. She felt Elsa start, like she always did. But she stayed there, warm and constant, and that was another little thing for Anna to put away, to save for a rainy day.

"Hey, Elsa?"

"Yes?"

"Are you finished with the winter crops? Whatever it is you're trying to do with them—plant them?"

"I'm not qualified for that task. And not quite, no." Elsa paused. "Are you bored?"

This was her moment. Time to drag her sighing sister into the sunshine.

Then— _of course—_ they were interrupted by a knock on the doors.

Elsa's gaze went over Anna's shoulder and the relaxed slump in her posture straightened almost automatically. This was another thing Anna had learned about her sister: Elsa was very good at knowing who was behind the door. Judging by her reaction, it wasn't Kai or Gerda.

Anna reluctantly picking up her mug of hot cocoa, and moved aside as Elsa called, "Come in."

A uniformed man in a navy winter jacket strode into the room. His greying hair looked like frost.

"Minister Belland," Elsa greeted.

Anna was smug, because that's who she'd thought he was. She loved guessing new people—in fact, she just loved new people in general. Not that any minister was new to her, after all those times she'd seen them file out of this same office, waiting for Papa to be free. Papa never let her inside.

But Elsa did.

"Your Highness." The minister bowed. "Princess Anna."

Anna looked up to find Minister Belland looking straight at her. She realised she was still grinning at nothing. She'd never quite figured out how to talk to government officials—most of them didn't seem to like talking at all—so she just directed her smile at him and gave a friendly wave.

Minister Belland returned a slight nod, but didn't look away as he said to Elsa, "I've brought the report from the last agricultural board meeting, as Your Highness has requested. Is there anything specific that I may summarise for you?"

Anna expected Elsa to shake her head and offer to read it in her own time, which was what Papa had always done. So she did a double take when Elsa spoke up. "As a matter of fact…"

It turned out Elsa had a lot of questions to ask. Anna tried her best to follow the volley of knowledge flying over her head, but that was exactly where it all went—over her head. She sipped her hot cocoa, thinking that Papa would definitely have let _Elsa_ into his meetings. She hoped Olaf was having a nice chat with Joan in the portrait room. Maybe she could drag Elsa out later and introduce her to everyone, and maybe, maybe, maybe, Elsa might cave and do a little magic—

"Princess Anna?"

Anna looked up, cheeks puffed with delicious cocoa. Minister Belland was watching her, and she could see Elsa turning in surprise. Anna swallowed. _Gah, that's hot._ "Um, yes?"

She could just hear Papa telling her to remember the things princesses should and shouldn't do.

Minister Belland said, "I'm quite interested in hearing your thoughts on Arendelle's current affairs."

"Oh. Sure." Anna blinked, casting a curious glance towards Elsa. "How, um, current, are we thinking?"

"Presently, our crops have fared well through the winter. However, there are concerns that may not always be the case. The council is considering expanding agriculture trade between our neighbours."

Anna took all of this in with a slow nod. She had caught Elsa's eye now and broadcasted a million question marks in her sister's direction. Elsa looked just as puzzled, but then her expression shifted into something more familiar. It was the kind of look she used to wear when Papa shot them pop quizzes over the dining table, and if Anna got stumped, really stumped, she'd only have to look at Elsa and her sister would jump in. Most of the time, she had the right answer—this _was_ Elsa they were talking about. But even if it turned out Elsa had no idea what Papa expected, she'd still try.

And Elsa had that look now, gathering herself. Waiting for Anna to ask—just ask.

But see, Anna had already asked a lot of things of Elsa lately.

"Well," she began slowly. "Wouldn't importing food stock—I don't know—take some jobs away from our people?"

"It may," Minister Belland mused. "Or it may not."

Anna almost rolled her eyes. Better not. Papa's portrait might come to life just to glower at her. Maybe that wouldn't be so bad. "Well, no one knows for sure that the seasons will change."

"But if they do, it will be much too late to act accordingly." Minister Belland gave her a meaningful look. "An economy cannot always afford optimism, Princess."

"I know but…" But what? Anna didn't even know what she was saying anymore. Even her tutor hadn't given her situations like these in a long time; he must have thought Anna had stopped trying. After all, Elsa's coronation was just over a year away. Anna realised she really didn't like making big decisions for other people… and then suddenly she was back in the great hall with snow falling from the ceiling and Elsa's wide, fearful eyes staring into hers as she shouted at her sister—

 _You shut me out for_ ten years _because you made up my own mind for me?_

The corner of the desk rammed into her hip as Anna took a step back.

Minister Belland arched his eyebrows.

Anna stared back at him for a moment, then blinked twice, hard. "Sorry, I—I don't know," she said. "Why don't you try asking the citizens what they think? They are—what's the word? Stakeholders. Right?"

Something shifted on Minister Belland's face. He clasped his hands behind him and smiled for the first time, almost kindly, grandfatherly. "Listening to the people is one thing, Your Highness. Denying responsibilities is another."

There was a long pause. Then Anna's mouth popped open. Did he just— "I-I'm not—"

"Minister Belland."

Anna stopped.

It wasn't Elsa's voice that spoke; it was the queen's, and this time it sounded less like their mother's. Anna hadn't heard that voice since Fredrik and the others visited last year—but even then, Elsa's tone was so _different_ this time. The sheer weight of it seemed to change the air in the room.

Anna turned to her sister and found Elsa on her feet, fixing a steady gaze on Minister Belland. It was a look she didn't think Elsa was capable of; something Anna would hate to be on the receiving end of, because God, it was so heavy and disappointed and… _angry_.

"Thank you for delivering the report to me. I appreciate the time you took to visit just for this purpose."

 _Just_ for this purpose. Nothing else. Minister Belland picked that up quicker than Anna did. He inclined his head, looking so stately in his pressed uniform, and for the first time he looked impressed. "And the council appreciates your fortitude, Princess Elsa. It will serve you well, if only you were willing to wield it more…" He glanced at Anna, then back at Elsa and her stony expression. Minister Belland smiled slightly. "… freely."

Anna sucked in a breath—it felt like winter in her lungs. She spun towards Elsa; her sister was staring down at the desk, her shoulders tight, hands out of sight. Minister Belland glanced around the room, as if to check the windows—all of them were closed. And in the short silence, Anna felt like she was watching another volley again, back and forth, but this one was even farther over her head and just—different.

Because this one, she was sure, was about her. And Elsa—

Anna blurted, "Hot cocoa?"

Elsa and Minister Belland turned to her. Anna put on a grin and raised her empty mug. "It's pretty cold today. Alfred—the chef—makes it really nice. Markus—oh, he's the kitchen hand—puts marshmallows, though."

Anna was sure Minister Belland wasn't very good at being surprised, because he spent too long staring at her. "Ah… no. No, thank you, Princess." He cleared his throat. "In fact, I should take my leave now. If I may be excused."

"You may," Elsa said quietly.

Minister Belland left. Just like that, he was gone.

Anna said, " _Wow_."

Behind her, Elsa let out a shaky breath. She was still hiding her hands, squeezing them, and she didn't seem to be focusing on anything because she had to ask, "Is… is the door closed?"

Anna nodded without checking.

Elsa sat back down in her seat. "Anna, maybe you should—"

"I'm not going anywhere," she cut in. "You can't make me."

For some reason, Elsa winced. "No. I can't." Then she lifted her hands from her lap. "But you can still change your mind."

Her hands were covered in frost. Anna gasped and started forward.

Elsa pulled back.

Anna stopped.

"I'm sorry,” Elsa said, swallowing. “I just—I’m not fully in control right now. I don't want to hurt you."

"You _won't_. Didn't we talk about this? I'm okay, see? Come on."

"I'm trying, Anna. But the curse won't—"

"It's not a curse!" Anna said firmly. "It's just magic."

Elsa gave a weak smile. "'Just magic'?"

Anna threw up her hands. "Not-just magic. _Magic_. Talents—wait, you've already got too many of those—whatever. You know what I mean! It's not a _bad thing_ , Elsa."

"You say that because you don't remember the bad it can do."

"Gosh, you are such a pessimist!" Elsa opened her mouth indignantly, but Anna wasn't stopping. "I don't have to remember to recognise, right? And I'm pretty sure I know what bad things look like. Me making a fool of myself in front of the minister just then? _That_ was bad."

Elsa looked at her. "He was in no right to challenge you like that."

"He wasn't exactly… okay, maybe he was—but it's okay. Everyone does it. Really, it's not—"

" _Everyone_?" Elsa broke in. "This happens to you regularly?"

Anna opened and closed her mouth dumbly. Had Elsa interrupted her?

Elsa seemed to realise it, too, because she sank back in her seat with a sigh. "Don't feel it," she murmured to herself. "Don't feel… Control it…"

"Elsa?" Anna moved to her sister's side, crouching by her knee. Up close, Elsa's hands were so pale and cold, and Anna saw that the underside of the desk was sheathed in ice. _Ice_ , not snow. "Are you… angry?"

Elsa exhaled.

Anna cocked her head as something in her mind clicked. "Are you angry… _for_ _me_?"

Another sigh. Then, closing her eyes, Elsa said, "Of course I am. I'm your big sister, aren't I?"

It was a very simple question, and if they got right down to it, it wasn't really a question at all. Because Anna had grown up holding this person's hand, running to her grinning or in tears, and it didn't matter that her older sister had only been a child, too; she was the only one who had always let Anna be anything she wanted; the knight in their games; the thief; the princess playing ordinary.

It was Elsa.

"Anna?" Elsa's eyes were wide and horrified.

Anna realised her own eyes were filling up. "Oh no," she whispered.

"A-Anna," Elsa said helplessly. "What's wrong?"

And with that, Anna lost it. Because suddenly, the answer was _everything._

She blubbered, "I don't like Minister Belland."

" _Anna_?"

"And I don't like how you have to sit in Papa's seat and—and Papa and Mama aren't here anymore, and… it was _lonely_ standing at their graves by myself. I'm still scared of doors and storms, and when Olaf asks me why the sky is blue and why snow melts, _I don't know_. Why don't I know anything, Elsa?"

Anna burrowed her face into her sister's lap, hiding, trying to suck everything back in because Elsa didn't need this and she didn't want to be so upset—

But she hadn't wanted a lot of things to happen. They just… had.

"I want," Anna sniffled. "I want to go to the winter festival again, all four of us. Together. The gates will be open and we'll get chocolate strawberries, and Papa will give that awkward birthday speech for us… Can't we just go back? I won't run around and get lost. I'll hold your hand. I'll be a good girl, so... so—"

"Anna," Elsa whispered, and then she was down on the floor, too.

Anna clung to her sister. She felt Elsa raising and dropping her arms, hesitating.

Finally, there was a tiny squeeze. "You're okay, Anna. I've got you."

" _Elsa_ …"

"You're okay," Elsa repeated, rubbing her back. Her voice sounded thick. "You're okay, Anna… I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

Anna sniffed and blinked over Elsa's shoulder. A snowflake fluttered from the ceiling and landed on the tip of her nose. She laughed a little, even though it came out kind of choked. Elsa had said she liked her laugh, after all, and if Anna could choose how to live her life every day, all she would want was to make Elsa smile. She could do something that small, couldn't she?

"Elsa? Don't go away again, will you? Not… not without me."

Anna wasn't sure if it was her tears blurring everything, or if Elsa was crying, too. All she knew was that when Elsa's hand came up behind her neck, easing her forward so their brows touched, her sister's hand was warm. Real.

Elsa said softly, "I think I need you more than you need me, silly."

Anna didn’t speak—she couldn’t—and pushed her way deeper into Elsa's arms. Minister Belland had taught her there were things you should know, but there was also a lot that you would never understand, and most of the time you just didn't get to choose.

"What are you doing?" Elsa asked, as Anna pressed an ear to her sister's chest.

"Shh. Listening to your heartbeat."

"… Can you really hear it?"

She couldn't. She didn't understand how it worked, either. But she could feel it, and that was all she ever needed to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're coming up to the last chapter! Editing and reuploading this fic has brought back the same bittersweet feelings I had when I first finished writing this story years ago. Thanks for taking this ride with me! Good news is the last chapter is the longest of them all :)


	19. So We Have to Play

Elsa couldn’t believe it had taken her this long to come to her senses. “This is a terrible idea.”

Anna pushed her back down with practiced ease. “Sit still! Master hair stylist at work!”

“Anna, I’m not ready for this.”

“Of course you are, silly. Sitting still is your thing. _I_ don’t sit still.”

“I meant—” Elsa winced as a blast of music erupted outside. “—the festival. Our parents closed the gates for a good reason.”

“And don’t we have a good reason to be opening them now? Okay—done!”

Anna swept the braid over Elsa’s shoulder and came around to the front, studying her handiwork. Then she narrowed her eyes. “ _Elsa._ You look like a grumpy cat about to be thrown in cold water.”

“Water would be much preferred,” Elsa muttered. “Why don’t you go to the festival—”

Anna crossed her arms.

“—with… Olaf,” Elsa finished lamely. “All right—that’s an equally terrible idea. I’m just not sure that… _Anna_.”

Anna was beside herself with laughter, clutching her side. “Sorry, sorry,” she gasped. “I’ll be serious… oh, my goodness. With _Olaf!_ ” And she was off again.

Elsa sighed in exasperation, even as a smile crept up on her lips. She touched the ends of her hair. When had Anna become so skilled at braiding?

Finally, Anna was calm enough to kneel down in front of her, wiping her eyes. “Okay, seriously now. How are we feeling?”

Elsa almost responded with _Fine._ It was reflex, after all these years. But that was precisely what her sister had spent the past few weeks weeding out: reflexes. Elsa considered them coping mechanisms; Anna called them bad habits.

Eventually, Elsa settled on, “Neurotic.”

Anna grinned and scooped up a handful of snow from Elsa’s lap. “It’s just one day—a super fun day to boot. Just wait and see. You’ll be fine.”

That was what Father had said, before he and Mother boarded the ship. Elsa felt another chill at her fingertips—but Anna was right there, brightly adding something their parents hadn’t said: “You have me.”

Elsa still couldn’t believe that was true—that she was allowed to leave her room and go to the winter festival with Anna.

“Are you sure you’re warm enough?” she asked again.

Anna gave her a pointed look. Elsa smiled sheepishly; she’d wrapped her sister up in so many sweaters and coats that it looked like she was accompanied by a giant marshmallow.

“I feel cold looking at you,” Anna announced. “Sure you don’t want one of my, like, five scarves?”

“I’m alright. The cold doesn’t bother me.” Elsa reached up to fix the knitted cap on Anna’s head. Then she twirled her hand, carefully, and the snow gathered from her dress up to the palm of her hand.

Elsa exhaled.

“You,” Anna said, “are amazing. Have I told you that before?”

Elsa smiled back, and stood. “Several times daily, yes. Where’s Olaf?”

“Picking flowers for us. He loves birthdays. I told him to look for yellow ones, because Mama liked yellow, didn’t she? Do yellow flowers grow in winter?”

Elsa led the way to the door. It stood tall and strong; her last guardian. Anna didn’t even knock anymore, and Elsa found that she didn’t mind that as much as she’d thought. “Let’s find out,” she replied.

“Oh man, I’m going to explode! We get to go to the festival!”

“You could have gone last year. It was your birthday present.”

Anna threaded her arm through Elsa’s. “But if I had,” she said blissfully, “maybe we wouldn’t be here today. And I’m really happy right now.”

 _Maybe_. Elsa let the simple thought flow through her, down her arm and into the handle of the white door she had been so afraid to open. _Maybe_. Yet today was the first day of the winter festival, their birthday, and they _were_ here, together on the same side of the door.

Elsa opened the door.

In the hallway, Kai and Gerda bowed, smiled, and waited. Music from town filled the high ceiling. Anna had started bouncing.

“Tell the guards to open up the gates.”

* * *

She didn’t want to be the one saying no to her sister, especially since she was witnessing something so… rare. But it was getting somewhat painful to watch.

Anna chewed the end of her pen.

“It’s okay, Anna. Let’s try an… easier question.”

“No—I _will_ get this, just watch me! These numbers have nothing on Anna of Arendelle!” She scribbled furiously on the workbook, tongue sticking out in concentration. Then she pushed the book over to Elsa, an intense look on her face.

Elsa peeked down at her sister’s answer—boxed, underlined and peppered with exclamation marks—and tried to hide a grimace.

Anna threw herself over the desk with a groan. “I _hate_ geometry!”

Smiling, Elsa picked up the pen and started correcting Anna’s work. “I do, too.”

“You’re a terrible liar, sis,” Anna grumbled into the table.

 _Only to you,_ Elsa thought. Anna doodled dejectedly on the table with a finger. She looked defeated now, but in a few more minutes she would spring back to life, spitting determination. Anna seemed physically incapable of giving up, and Elsa was grateful. Because Anna could have stopped knocking on the door at any time, but she hadn’t.

Elsa put the pen down and, before she could change her mind, unfurled her fingers.

Anna shot up straight when a snowflake landed on the back of her neck. “Elsa?” she asked, alarmed, because Elsa had warned her so many times, if she ever lost control…

But she hadn’t. Not this time. Elsa’s brow knitted together.

A frosty dust swept over the table. The pages of Anna’s workbook rustled and flipped.

Elsa snapped her hand shut.

When the mist cleared, Anna let out a surprised laugh—for there, on the surface of the wood, rising in icy ridges, was an exact replica of the diagram in the workbook.

Elsa felt like she had just held the moon in her hands.

Breathless and flushed, she turned to Anna—her little sister looked back at her like she was the most incredible person in the world—like Elsa didn’t just have magic; she _was_ magic.

And Elsa truly felt like it.

* * *

She had only meant to lay her head down for a few minutes, rest her eyes; let all the long words and geopolitics settle somewhere other than the pulsing ache in her temple. Then she was dreaming of her parents, and it wasn’t a terrible dream, for once. So she fell into it.

When Elsa blinked awake, the office was pitch black, and the ache had moved from her temple to her neck. The report sat unfinished, mid-sentence, beneath her.

Elsa shot her feet. How could she have slept the entire afternoon away? She had a meeting with the council, the winter crop situation to decide—why hadn’t anyone _woken_ _her_ —

She flung open the door.

Anna tumbled back with a yelp, scattering playing cards across the floor.

Olaf jumped up. “Good morning, sunshine! Did you have a nice nap?”

“What… What are you two doing out here?”

Anna pushed herself up from a slope of snow, only to slip back down. “You know what? I’m hungry—are you hungry? Ooft!”

Elsa caught Anna under the arms as her sister fell over the snow again. Then her mind jolted awake, spinning and churning. She looked down at Anna. “Did you…”

“No,” her sister said immediately.

“For the entire afternoon…

“Not the _entire_ afternoon. Gosh, that’s just silly.”

“You and Olaf…”

“No one saw me!” Olaf piped up. He picked up a corner of Anna’s cloak and pulled it over his head. “See?”

Elsa’s shoulders slumped. The snow dissolved, and Anna fell back against her knees.

“You really shouldn’t have,” Elsa said softly.

Anna tilted her head back and grinned. “Did you sleep well, though?”

Elsa looked between her sister and Olaf. Finally, she sighed, and smiled. “Yes. Yes, I did.”

* * *

“Tada!” Anna cried.

Elsa freed her hand from Anna’s and pressed it to her side as she tried to catch her breath. “You dragged me… across the castle,” she clarified wheezily, “to show me your horse?”

“Chestnut isn’t just any horse,” Olaf corrected. “He’s Chestnut, and he loves my nose. Who’s a good little horsey? Oh! Look at him trying to eat my nose! _Adorable_.”

Elsa wondered if Chestnut remembered that he had once been called Gulbrand, and the very first thing he had ever been afraid of was the chill on Elsa’s hand. That felt so long ago; the Christmas she had given their parents’ present to Anna.

Still, that did not explain why they were standing in the stables. “Anna, I have a lot of things to do.”

“Uh huh. And this is next on your agenda, am I right?”

“My agenda?”

“It’s a list of things you have to do,” Olaf said helpfully.

“Yup! If you check it, you’ll see ‘ _spend time with Anna’_ scheduled for—yep, right about now.”

Elsa _did_ briefly consult her mental schedule. It was chock full. With so many mounting preparations for the coronation, she barely had time to eat, let alone—

Elsa stopped and closed her eyes. Because she hadn’t understood at all.

“Anna,” she said ruefully. “You don’t have to schedule yourself into my agenda. Ever.” Elsa reached out and held her sister’s hand. “So… why are we in the stables?”

Anna beamed. “I’ve got it all planned out. It’s the first day of spring and it’s still a little bit cold but the grass is nice and soft—Chestnut’s best playground. We can start off slow, maybe just do one round—or ten, if you’re feeling confident—”

“Wait. What are you talking about?”

“Teaching you how to ride Chestnut.”

Oh, no.

“Anna, no—I can’t… I haven’t ridden a horse in years.”

“I know you haven’t,” Anna said cheerfully. “That’s why I’m teaching you.”

Elsa opened and closed her mouth without a sound. Finally, she managed to ask, “ _Why_?”

“Because I kind of, maybe, possibly crashed our bike into a suit of armour and never managed to fix it?”

_The bike?_

Elsa arched an eyebrow.

Anna squirmed.

“Yes?” Elsa prompted.

“Just tell her,” Olaf stage-whispered to Anna. “Do you want me to tell her for you?”

“No!” Anna hissed back. Then she glanced back at Elsa, and pressed her face into Chestnut’s long neck, as if embarrassed.

“I won’t laugh.”

“That’s not it,” Anna mumbled.

“Then what is?”

Anna turned away from Chestnut, just enough to meet Elsa’s gaze. Then it came out in a torrent. “You said you didn’t like your first time on a horse and I thought that was really sad because horses are amazing and so are you—and I just really, really want to teach you how to have fun again.”

Elsa’s smile faded.

 _I know where we have to go_ , Papa said, and he picked her up and ran to the stables, and Mama was right behind with Anna, but Anna—Anna wasn’t moving—

“Y-You don’t have to if you don’t want to! I just thought…”

“Of everything,” Elsa said quietly.

“… I did?”

Carefully, slowly, she reached out to touch Chestnut’s neck. He flinched, jerking away from Anna’s hand to stare at Elsa’s, and Elsa winced, too.

She pulled away—but Anna grabbed her wrist. “He’s just shy. You just need a proper introduction.”

Anna guided her hand over Chestnut’s muzzle. He eyed it with a caged look. Elsa worried about the chill creeping up to her skin.

Then the cold was gone, blown away by a warm, nickering breath on her palm.

“See?” Anna grinned. “He likes you.”

* * *

“Do you believe in heaven?”

Elsa looked up because that was an awfully random question, even for Olaf. “Are you asking for Anna again?”

“Nope!”

“You’re simply curious?”

“Yup!”

Elsa thought about it. “Heaven is a nice idea. It gives hope and purpose.”

Olaf hummed in agreement. “Do you think people in heaven still watch over us?”

“I wouldn’t know, I’m afraid.”

“Maybe they have special windows in the clouds where they can look down and find the people they care about.”

At this, Elsa paused. _Clouds_. “I thought you weren’t asking this for Anna,” she said quietly.

“I’m not! Anna asked _me_ , so I made it into a tag game and asked _you_.”

Elsa didn’t say anything. Because they were only a year away from her coronation and Anna wasn’t a child anymore… but once, a long time ago, Anna had knocked on her door with the kind of question Elsa hadn’t known how to answer. But she’d had to say _something_ , because if she didn’t her little sister wouldn’t understand that some senior staff members _left_ for places they wouldn’t return from. She thought they had left _her._

So even though she knew she shouldn’t, that eventually Papa and Mama would explain in their adult ways, Elsa had opened her door the slightest crack—

—and she told had Anna about heaven above the clouds.

“Olaf? Do you stay with Anna when she sleeps?”

“Most of the time. Some nights I have a date with Chestnut or Joan. Why?”

“If she… if Anna ever has a bad dream, come to me. Please.”

“Even if she doesn’t want me to?”

“Especially so.”

“Okay! Then what?”

Elsa didn’t know if heaven existed, or if their parents were watching them. She couldn’t control these things—she could not control many, many things. But if she could choose just one thing…

“I’ll come to her.”

* * *

The summer heat brought with it a week of storms. She didn’t always play the piano during the storms, because Anna came to her now. No matter where Elsa was, or what she was doing; when the rain and thunder started, Anna would be there in minutes, hugging a cushion, wide-eyed and smiling meekly. She liked to sit on the floor by Elsa’s feet, where she would either attempt to stack a house of cards, or doze off altogether.

Every time the sky growled, Anna would jerk and whisper, “Elsa?”

“It’s okay,” Elsa would whisper back. “I’m here.”

* * *

“Pretty please with marshmallows and chocolate syrup in your tea?”

“That would taste terrible.”

“Pleeaasee? Take pity on your favourite sister?”

Elsa picked up her pen, hiding a smile. “I suppose I might be able to request a more… experienced representative from Weselton. On account of discussing business.”

“Yes! I love you, Elsa!”

“Wow,” Olaf marvelled. “You really don’t like Fredrik, do you?”

Anna shuddered. “Don’t say his name. It makes my toes hurt.” She leaned over Elsa’s shoulder, studying the final guest list. “Are there any princes with last name Charming coming? Oh! Please tell me the Southern Isles representative is not He-Who-Shall-Also-Not-Be-Named…”

“Prince Gregory?” Elsa said innocently, just to hear Anna groan. “No, it appears he will be abroad with his fleet at that time. The Southern Isles is sending another prince.”

“Oh, thank goodness.” Anna slumped over the back of the chair, resting her chin on top of Elsa’s head. “I still think it’s weird that coronation day isn’t on your birthday. I mean, isn’t that the whole point?”

“The climate will be more hospitable for visitors in summer.”

“Oh, summer is the best season for everything,” Olaf sighed happily. “ _Bees’ll buzz_ …”

Elsa rolled up the finalised guest list and set it aside. She straightened a pile of books, searching for something to do; because there was always something. Elsa glanced up at her father’s portrait, and absently started twirling the pen between her fingers.

“You’re still left-handed!” Anna suddenly exclaimed.

Elsa jumped. Her head knocked into Anna’s chin and Anna disappeared from the back of her chair. “Ah—sorry, you surprised me—are you okay? Anna?”

Anna popped back up, unfazed. She pointed excitedly at Elsa’s pen. “I thought you wrote with your right hand!”

Elsa blinked. “I-I do.”

Anna shook her head. “When we were little, you did everything with your left hand! I remember—I tried to copy you.”

At that moment, Elsa realised it was a mistake to think that she knew everything Anna had forgotten. They just remembered different things. And somewhere along the way, desperately holding on to the memories of that snowy night, of what she must not forget, Elsa had lost some others, too.

Anna hadn’t, though.

Elsa shifted the pen to her right hand; she didn’t spin it, because she knew it would clatter to the table. She’d tried. “Father brought in a tutor to help me adjust to writing with my right hand. I just—slip… sometimes.” It was embarrassing, now that she thought about it. Had she ever slipped up during a meeting with the council?

“Ambidextrous is not _slipping_ ,” Anna scoffed. Then she let out a happy sigh and rubbed Elsa’s head, where they had collided. “I’m so glad.”

“Pardon me?”

“If you’re still left-handed, I can still be your right hand.”

* * *

This year, Elsa had only promised to attend the winter festival for one day. It was all she could afford and if she had any sense at all, she would keep to it.

Yet for some reason, on the morning of the second day, she’d dressed herself in outdoor winter attire to see Anna off.

Anna grinned when she saw her. “I told you so.”

“Told me what?” The music was merrier than it had ever been. As if the band knew to position themselves along the bridge, waiting and expecting. It was the last festival Elsa could spend as a princess.

“You, dear sister, are craving the thrill of the festival. One day is so not enough for you.” She circled Elsa, rubbing her hands together with a mysterious gleam in her eye. “You’ve had but a taste of adventure… and now you want more!”

Elsa tried not to smile as Anna stroked an imaginary beard. “Stop it. I do not.”

She still had a coronation gown to try on and the painter’s appointment to schedule, then another half-dozen matters that required the royal seal; but of course, she’d have to read them first, twice over, and she could only do that if Anna and Olaf gave her a stretch of undisrupted peace. Which they hadn’t managed to do so far.

“I’m sure you’ll enjoy the day without me.”

“Oh, I’m sure I will,” Anna replied.

Elsa arched an eyebrow.

The guards hurried to their stations as the gates prepared to open once more.

Anna whispered in Elsa’s ear, “I’m going to have _so much_ _fun_ , because there’ll be music and light and people.”

A horn blasted overhead.

“Ice-sculpting contests,” her sister hissed.

The gates began to move. On the other side, the drums beat louder. This was Elsa’s cue to wish Anna a good day, remind her to be careful, and return to her office. Undisrupted peace.

“ _Chocolate strawberries_. And I’m not bringing any back for you!”

“… You wouldn’t.”

Grinning, Anna held out her hand.

Undisrupted peace.

“Come on, Elsa,” her little sister laughed. “Let’s go and play!”

Elsa sighed. Then she smiled and let Anna drag her through the open gates—and it was just a fleeting moment, so quick and quiet she wasn’t sure it had actually happened. But she felt it; a gentle hand patting her head.

 _What do you need to remember today, Elsa?_ her mother’s smiling voice asked.

Elsa blinked against the winter breeze. “Hold onto Anna,” she whispered.

“What?” Anna called over her shoulder.

Elsa looked up at the sky. It was lined with heavy clouds, but still bright and awake, and her smile widened. “I said, ‘Happy birthday, Anna.’”

* * *

She always heard Anna coming. Those skipping footfalls, that happy humming and the occasional yelps of surprise; Elsa always listened for them.

At this point, though, Elsa was sure she could hear everything.

The blanket felt scratchy against her skin; stiff, familiar—ice. Usually, she would thrust her hands into the gloves on her bedside table, slip out of bed, and press herself against the window, as far as possible from the door and everyone else. The gloves were still there, tucked into the second drawer, but Elsa hadn’t needed—wanted—them in a long time. 

She was still listening for Anna.

Elsa’s gaze fell on the slit of light beneath her door; a sight she often fell asleep to. Ice crackled on the underside of her blanket. She let out a controlled breath.

She sat up, glancing with pursed lips at the sharp snapping sounds her blanket made. The moon’s light—or was it the awakening sun’s?—fell upon her feet. It didn’t reach the painting on the wall, but Elsa saw it clearly in her mind; not just the portrait, but her father himself, dangling from a ladder, awkwardly hammering the frame into the wall.

He leaned back, looked over his shoulder, and smiled, _One day, you will have to face our people, and Anna._

One day.

Tomorrow.

Today.

Snow drifted from the ceiling. Elsa pushed a hand through her hair, reaching with the other for the gloves.

 _It’s not a curse!_ her sister said. _It’s just magic._

Curse, powers or magic—it didn’t matter, did it? It was still hers. And because it was hers, Elsa had always known when the chill beneath her skin was the calmest… It wasn’t when they were covered by her father’s gloves.

She crossed the room and opened the door. On her way down the hall, Elsa looked out the windows, catching glimpses of the town and fjord. At this hour, some of the dignitaries’ ships may already be arriving at the pier, or even anchored, waiting for morning. The ceremony. Her ceremony.

Elsa walked faster.

When she reached Anna’s door, she raised her hand to knock—

—and missed the door entirely.

“Oh my God, you actually came! I mean, I knew you’d come. I sat and waited and you don’t know how _hard_ waiting is. I was going to go to your room but then I thought—what if she’s actually sleeping and she’s got eye bags on her first day as queen because of me? What if… oh, never mind—you’re here!”

Anna beamed breathlessly at her. Elsa stared, lost, at her sister’s messed hair and bright eyes. “I… I’m sorry?”

Anna’s grin turned impish, then self-conscious, as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You couldn’t fall asleep, right?”

It hit Elsa that she might not be the only one who stayed up listening for footsteps.

“You’re right,” she said. “Can I come in?”

“Are you kidding?” Anna yanked her into the room. “I made a blanket fort. What do you think?”

Elsa watched as Anna burrowed under the covers, popping up even more rustled. “It’s a lot like the ones we made as kids.”

“Uh huh!” Anna raised a corner of a blanket. “Coming in?”

“Actually, I think I’m—”

“ _Elsa_.”

She met her sister’s playful pout. Elsa shook her head, hid a smile, and took the corner.

It _was_ just like the ones they used to make together, only they would be hard-pressed to find space for story books now. They weren’t children anymore. Anna laughed as they jostled together, pulling blankets over each other’s heads.

“Shh,” Elsa smiled, out of practice, even though there was no one that they could wake who would scold and sigh at them.

“Okay,” Anna huffed when they were settled as best they could. “Talk—and you can’t pretend you came for the fort.”

Anna’s pillow smelled of too many years gone by. Elsa lowered her chin into the soft down, blinked straight ahead, at the desk they used to share. “I’m afraid. If I fall asleep, I’ll wake up as queen. I won’t be able to go back.”

“Technically, you still need to go to the chapel.”

Where she must hold the orb and sceptre before an audience of lords and royalty, with all of Arendelle in her hands.

Elsa exhaled. “I don’t even know if I can do this, Anna.”

“That’s okay.” Her sister bumped her shoulder. “I do. I know you can. You’re Elsa.”

“The heir. I know.”

“Well, yes, that. But I meant… you know. Everything else. All of you.”

Elsa turned her head. “‘All of me’?”

Anna grinned, and shrugged. “You’re Elsa,” she said again, blissfully.

Elsa gazed into her sister’s eyes and saw their parents looking back at her. Very lightly, very carefully, she let herself lean against Anna’s arm. “I always thought that when I came of age… Mother and Father would be here to guide me.”

Anna pressed back. “I still miss them,” she murmured.

“Me too.”

“Can I stand next to you during the coronation?”

“Pardon?”

“Well, maybe not right next to you because, you know, _queen_. But I’ll be there. I’ll take all your dances for you—if you don’t want them—and when you put on that crown, I’ll clap the loudest. For Mama and Papa, too.”

Elsa stared at Anna’s earnest expression, and felt the urge to laugh. So she did. “You don’t have to ask. That was always your place, Anna. You’re my sister.”

Anna’s smile filled the room. Elsa wondered how many she had at her disposal; if Anna ever tired of spending them on others. Most likely not.

“Okay,” Anna said. “So you’re walking me down the aisle, right? When I meet my dashing prince?”

The sky was changing outside. Some ships would certainly be pulling in. The palace would begin to stir, bustling with final preparations. Anna’s coronation dress stood in a corner of the room. Anna, who had lived behind closed gates as well, and loved life so much she had spent an afternoon in her new dress, dancing with a bronze bust in the portrait room.

“That would depend,” Elsa replied.

“On what?”

“On whether I deem him worthy.”

“Of your _presence_? Gosh, Elsa, I didn’t think—”

“Of _you_ , silly.”

“… Oh.”

_Of you._

Anna bumped Elsa’s shoulder. “Maybe you should try and get a bit of sleep. Not that you wouldn’t look amazing, even with eye bags.”

Suddenly, Elsa smiled.

Anna’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, I see how it is—you _like_ your unfair beauty, don’t you? You’re gloating because you don’t wake up with bed hair! I can’t believe you… what are you doing?”

Elsa had sat up. “Are you tired?”

“Well, you’d have to define that. Do you mean, like, just-chased-a-cat tired, or…”

“Would you mind staying up with me?”

Anna blinked. Elsa nodded towards the window. “The sky is awake,” she said mischievously.

With that, Anna shot up straight, dislodging blankets and pillows. It was a different sight. Her sister’s hair hung long and loose now; the freckles on her cheek lightened; her eyes no longer quite so innocent and childish. Elsa knew she was just as different, just as changed.

She sat up and rubbed her hands together, feeling the breeze rise above her skin.

_Psst! Elsa!_

For so long, she had believed, so hard, that if she just stayed on one path, a good girl, all the answers would align themselves before her, paving a bridge back to the way everything used to be. A time when her mother and father would be waiting at the breakfast table each morning, and the only responsibility she had was the only one that mattered: the little girl who held her hand with all the trust in the world, asking over and over again—

“Do you want to build a snowman?”

_Wake up, wake up, wake up!_

For just one night, she wanted to go back.

“Ready?”

“I was born ready,” her sister whispered.

_The sky’s awake._

And so were they.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And... that's it! Thank you so much for reading this little story! It has been such a joy revisiting this story six years after finishing it. 
> 
> Watching the first Frozen movie brought me back to fanfiction in the form of The Sky Is Awake. Finishing this fic marked the first time I'd ever finished writing a story in my life - I was content. But then Frozen 2 came out! And I got dragged back in! It motivated me to come back and share this fic on this wonderful site. 
> 
> I've also started a new project after watching Frozen 2 because of course I couldn't stay away! If you're interested, you can read The Next Unknown on fanfiction.net. It's my canon-compliant post-Frozen 2 baby with stupidly long chapters, helping me come to terms with the movie's ending. There's sister fluff, but also war and politics and Kristoff and drama. A couple of The Sky Is Awake characters like Belland and Prince Gregory have roles in The Next Unknown. I plan to upload the fic to Ao3 when it's finished, but that's at least a year away so ff.net is the only place to read it right now! https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13467233/1/The-Next-Unknown
> 
> Again, thank you all so much for reading! I appreciate you! Please feel free to chat to me on tumblr (themarshmallowattack) - simplesnowflake out!


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